


Lord of the Rings: Redemption

by ShawnMorgan



Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-03-14 17:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 49,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3419666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShawnMorgan/pseuds/ShawnMorgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when Smeagol is given a second chance and is aided by an elf queen? Galadriel decided that Smeagol should be saved if Frodo should, and did something about it. After all, Smeagol had suffered for much longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The fall of Gollum: The Rise of Smeagol

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GuesssWho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuesssWho/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New prologue uploaded in place of the original chapter one. Galadriel decides that if Frodo deserves help against the One Ring, then so does Smeagol. She decides to use her powers to this end.

So close to the great Fiery mountain, Smeagol had been beaten back by Gollum.

“Gollum.” He croaked the words. “Wicked master has the precious! Mustn’t lets it fall into the fires. The precious belongs to us. Must stop hobbitses!”

He scampered on, compelled by the evil that pervaded this blasted and forsaken land. There would have been many who condemned him for his actions against Frodo here, but one bright soul was fighting her way through the shadows of the mind from many leagues distant, Using the power of her own Elven ring, its presence no longer concealed from Sauron, she poured forth her own will and her own magic.

 

***

Frodo Baggins stood at the precipice and spoke. “I come here and I feel you. Yes I was mistaken. I believed you need destroying to save the world but all it needs is-is-is-is. !”  
Sam Gamgee watched helplessly as his master struggled valiantly. he shouted. “Mister Frodo, Throw it in, end this. Don't give in! Not after all this! Please!”  
Frodo's fingers twitched as his final battle teetered towards failure, but even as hope seemed to crackle and fade, a great light flared in his mind and he stood within the light of destiny. Behind Sam and Frodo both, Smeagol, his very mind on fire with pain and fury and madness crept slowly towards them. 

***

Galadriel stood her Mirror, her face radiant that noone could look directly upon her countenance. Her will it was that reached through to soothe Smeagol and he could hear this ancient being with all her wisdom: She to whom even Gandalf The White paid heed. 

Smeagol was confused and he continued creeping forwards, but there was one last being of power and the once fallen one's mind filled with her stern and beautiful face.

Her voice in his mind was like an ointment that soothed away burns. ‘Frodo is far from alone Smeagol, and he needs me not. The powers I safeguard have allowed me to fortify him. Is you though that I would strive for, to defeat the last vestige of the One Ring's power, to deny it a final spiteful victory. Truly has it taxed me to reach to that part of you that can be saved, but it is done. Know me Smeagol, know that I am Galadriel!’

The Elvish face shone brightly in Smeagol's mind and he saw that she stood in a garden with ponds and fish. So many juicy Fishes! When he looked into her face she nodded. He could fish there!

A small laugh carried inside his head, the kind of gentle laugh he had not heard for far too long. 

‘Not for ever, river dweller but for some time. But hark ye to your last task. Safeguard the pathway for Frodo even against Sam’s anger. And so is my mission ended here.’

Smeagol could see clearly, he was nearly free. He felt the One Ring fall to its own doom and ran to to witness the victory… looking over his shoulder once he saw the Nazgul race to the mountain on their foul winged beasts, but with they were sustained by the Ring and with its destruction they crackled and went out.

He looked forward straight after that and was amazed to see the Hobbits struggling down the causeway. But the death throes of Oroduin threw Frodo to the edge of the crumbling mountain path and Frodo began to slide over. Sam dove for his master but it was too much and Frodo's hand began to slip away form Sam's grasp. 

“Hang on Mr Frodo!" Sam’s desperate cry sounded. But Frodo continued to slip... until a wiry hand snapped hold over Frodo's wrist and began dragging him back.

In answer to the astonished Sam, Smeagol simply stated, "Smeagol wishes to live more. Smeagol only lives more because master saved him. ”

Between them, they pulled Frodo up and all three collapsed on the path staring at the sky.

So it was that Smeagol could see that the Eagles were coming: for all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original chapter One is stored away now but still exists.


	2. New Freedoms

Lord of The Rings Redemption

 

“Hello Smeagol, it seems we have something to discuss.”

Smeagol blinked, his tired eyes opening slowly. It took him a few seconds to recognise the voice but when he did, he sat bolt upright as though a fire had been lit beneath him. He stared straight into the eyes of Frodo. Nearby was a tallfolk guard but Smeagol didn't care, he was that surprised.

“Master?”

“No, Smeagol, I'm not your master. Not any more. We are both free of the Ring. But, are we free of each other yet?”

“Smeagol wants to go fishing. Fishies.”

Frodo chuckled. “Well, I suppose that's one way of answering it. Do you feel it though Smeagol. Do you feel the lightness, the absence of the Ring?”

Smeagol scratched his head. “How do you feel something that isn’t there. Silly Hobbitses.”

Frodo stretched and continued, “It's like wearing something really heavy like armour. and then you take it off and you feel so light.”

Smeagol frowned as he realised what Frodo meant. Not so silly Hobbitses then. He didn’t care that much though, he just wished he was fishing.

“Smeagol wants to get out of this jail now. If white wizard and all the pretty people meant what they said before, then Smeagol should have a new task!”

Frodo nodded. He knew what it was like to carry the Ring and in talking with his companions, had come to realise that Smeagol's one reason to exist was gone, and now Frodo was as close to understanding that as he could ever get.

“Smeagol's new task is to help Master-” his words became hesitant, “to help Frodo gets better now.”

Frodo smiled “It will not be easy Smeagol. You were not the best of your people even before the Ring. The ring saw that and used it and made it painful. But you are free!”

“And Smeagol will stay that way!” He remembers now, so long ago in warm fields and large ponds with lots of fish. Smeagol's memory is his own now and he can remember the words Stoor, and Gladden.”

“Will you walk with me now and taste of freedom?” Frodo asked gently.

“Big men are letting Smeagol go?”

“Not yet. They wish to see that you can abide by new rules they have for you and you must walk in the setting sun to show them that you can.”

 

What Frodo was keeping secret for now was that he knew full well that the people of Gondor would flinch and shun the little creature, for he still looked like a fell gangrel creature. For his part it seemed to Frodo that he other was conent to just walk free.

* * *

It wasn't an easy route to the river, made no less difficult by their desire to avoid the site of the citizenry. This was in part to spare Smeagol from gawking and in part to spare himself the same. With them went Samwise Gamgee and Legolas the elf. 

Sam was deep in thought though he occasionally talked about fish with Smeagol, doing his best to get some idea of what was going on in the latter's head.

“Silly Samwise, why put salt in to add flavour lost through cooking, when all you have to do is not cook them?”

“Smeagol is correct Sam.” Frodo said. “After all a great Elven delicacy is made with fish by adding herbs and spices.”

“Yes well, that's elves and others for you, but Mr Frodo and I are Hobbits and we use herbs and spices differently.”

Smeagol frowned. They said the names of herbs differently. They even said the word herb differently. He decided he would just say 'herb' the way frodo did and use the 'H'.

They arrived at the river bank about a league from the walls of the city where Gimli son of Gloin awaited them. The dwarf sighed and looked at the still moderately pitiful being, He fixed him with a stern look.  
.  
“YOU, come here a minute and let me have a good look at you.” Gimli's tone was gruff and commanding, but not exactly threatening.

.

This put Smeagol in mind of a few times Frodo had given him orders, so he hopped forwards, keeping an axe swing and a half's distance away from the dwarf. Gimli chuckled at this, understanding exactly what was happening here and he even gave small nod.

Gimli cleared his throat and then a mirthful look appeared on his face and he grunted. “Well, if I can be fair to a pointy eared elven princeling who shows off instead of getting on with the job, then I can be fair to you.”  
“Hey!” said an indignant Legolas.  
“Forty Two,” replied Gimi and that was answer enough to quiet the elf.

Smeagol looked around and when he saw that Sam and Frodo were as confused as he was, he was content. He spotted Gimli looking him over then and took a few steps back as the dwarf unhitched his axe and laid it down gently, but still ready in front of him.

Gimli grinned. “I find myself wondering who would win in a contest of fishing Between Elf and.. Uhh..”

“Smeagol,” answered Smeagol.

“...Smeagol, that's the word I was looking for.” Gimli smiled with the kind of smile that Smeagol recognised as someone playing a little joke, 

“No it wasn't,” said Legolas.

“Yes it was.” said Smeagol.”

“Whose side are you on here?” Legolas practically pouted. 

“Mine.” Smeagol let out a small chuckle and capered for a few seconds then.

Gimli flashed Legolas a triumphant look and then stroked his beard, then looked at Smeagol earnestly. “Very well then master Smeagol, one minute of an elf with a bow shooting fish, against your skill at diving in and fetching them out.”

“Silly elfses! He is going to lose.” Smeagol cackled. Unbeknown to Legolas, Smeagol had already been planning to try the same wager with Sam and had been thinking the whole thing through already. A poncy looking elf would do just as well as his target.

Legolas raised an eyebrow and looked sceptical. He tilted his head at Frodo and said.“Frodo will referee to be fair. I think.”

“Frodo,” said Frodo, “is going to lie here and enjoy the peace and quiet and not be involved. Sam will adjudicate thank you, if that's alright with you Sam?”

“It is, Mister Frodo.” Sam replied. He knew quite well what Smeagol was like and as much as he liked Legolas, the elf had been a little too full of himself for a while. Apparently he had taken down an oliphaunt outside Gondor's walls. So it would be good for him to be reminded he wasn't perfect.

“Okay Frodo, You have a good nap and I'll look after the scoring.”

“Okay, thank you Sam.”

Legolas sighed. “And to think I could have stayed on those ships and become a pirate.”

Gimli laughed heartily at this. “A tall thin blonde wet behind the ears fellow like you a pirate? It could never have wor-” The dwarf trailed off as he saw it actually working after all. How strange.

Legolas was about to say something else when Sam clapped his hands together gaining everyone's attention.

“Right then, one minute to get as many fish as possible and whoever piles up the most fish on the shore wins!”

Legolas drew back his bow with elven accuracy and let fly. His aim was true and he settled into an easy rhythm just as he done so many times during the quest of the Ring. Fish after fish was skewered. Rather than pick them all out one at a time, he shot them near a bend in the river so that once he was finished he would be able to collect them all easily.

“Fifty seconds.” Sam's voice carried well here, so he was easy enough to hear.

Smeagol had his own plan. After watching Legolas for a a few seconds, he grinned and waded into the water, and his hands darted in and out flinging fish to the shore.

“Forty seconds.” Legolas perched himself near the river bend where his school of shot fish had settled and whilst still shooting more fish he stuck one foot in the water and began flipping fish to the shore, taking advantage of the comparative shallowness of his chosen part of the stream. 

“Thirty seconds.” Sam called.

Smeagol heard and responded by hopping over the pile of fish that was still in the water next to Legolas and grinned at the elf. “Silly elf is going to lose.” The he stuck his tongue out.

Legolas paused and the wild halfling took advantage of his momentary lapse to bend down, scoop up several fish and throw them onto the shore to land in his own pile.

“Cheat!” Legolas was outraged but his diminutive opponent just smirked.

“Nope. Rules say that that the one with biggest pile on the shore wins. These fish are in the river, so I is throwing thems!”

One the shore, Sam choked and then nearly doubled over with laughter as Smeagol continued to rather creatively follow the rules of the game.

“You-you...” Legolas redoubled his efforts, realising how he had been outsmarted.

“T-ten seconds.” Sam's voice was faltering.

There was a Legolas shaped blur in the water as the elf shook off his surprise and he started kicked fish to the shore one after the other. One was flung after Sam called time but a familiar dwarven axe smacked it out of the air and it was tossed to Sam.

“The contest is over. so let’s count the fish. Time to count.” 

Legolas counted his own pile, still sulking at having being outwitted. “Forty-two”

Smeagol did a little victory dance as he called out “Forty-three!”

Sam looked at his own feet and chortled, shrugging as he said “One.”

Frodo chuckled “And you weren’t even competing.”

Sam grinned before looking at the two piles and with a raised eyebrow said, “And the winner is Smeagol.”

Not again… thought Legolas. He gave Smeagol a weary look as he sat down next to his old friend Gimli. Then he shrugged and started munching on Lembas.  
“Well Laddie, today ye learned that no everyone can be as fine and upstanding as you. Others have other skills, but I’ll be saying this.” Gimli smiled tightly. “ As much as we’ve been told to teach Goll- I mean Smeagol the halfling there, how to re adjust, we’ll be still be near Frodo, at his side, in case the climb back is too much for him.”

“Oh.”

Gimli spoke with pride in the next moment, “Of course, he has my axe.”

“And of course, my bow.”

“And all of your fish.” Gimli chuckled as the elf fell neatly for his teasing.

“You did that to me on purpose.” Legolas pouted.

“And it was every bit as fun as usual.” Gimli admitted.

Legolas looked to the ruined east. “Strange though is it not that whilst men fell to Sauron and were corrupted by the Ring, that only being close to Mount Doom allowed it to overpower Frodo in the end.”

Gimli followed the elf's gaze but turned away quickly not wanting to dwell too much upon it. “Aye and it took centuries to overpower Smeagol there and he fought his way back in the end, though he, like Frodo, needed help.”

“Sam too, fought the Ring. He did not need help but that was for he bore its brunt for only a short time.

“What of Frodo’s Uncle Bilbo-”

 

“Bagginses stole the-" Smeagol began but even as he did so, Frodo sat up and cleared his throat. 

“Calm yourself Smeagol.” Frodo said, sitting upright and pointing a warning finger. “The Ring betrayed you and left to try and also betray my uncle." 

Smeagol stopped and thought, yes, but it was so hard sometimes to remember which memories were his own and which ones the Ring had forced upon him. 

Sam started singing an Elven song to calm frayed nerves but it was effective for unexpected reasons. Smeagol teamed up with Gimli after the dwarf made some teasing remarks about elves and how they were all so feminine looking no one could tell the difference between their males and females. 

Legolas tried to return fire with female dwarf beards comments, but the idea was considered so ridiculous that the advantage was Gimli’s from the start.

Frodo listened to it all with a blanket over his face, amused at everything happening around him and indulging himself by not getting involved the exchange. With a sly smile he turned his face away from the group and let them bicker.

As they head back to the city proper later on, Smeagol scampered about doing a victory dance, which irritated Legolas no end. This was not helped by Gimli clapping along merrily, and reciting a merry and ancient Dwarven victory chant.

Frodo looked at Gimli and Smeagol and thought to himself wryly, 'That ’s a pair to give Merry and Pippin a run for their money.'


	3. Smeagol Unbound

Lord of the Rings:Redemption

Chapter Two

Smeagol woke to a strange sight. He was laid out on a pallet of straw and whilst he was manacled to a chain, there was more than enough room to move about in this generously spaced room. There were bars set into an iron door that let in sunlight, enough so that he could see but not direct so that it would discomfort him.

On a plate on a table near his bedding was table and on it was a plate laden with fish.

He looked around and seeing no one, looked around again, then scampered cautiously over to the plate, and held one of the fish up. He sniffed it and then recognised through decades of experience of fishing that it was safe to eat.

“Juicy fish. Safe to eat.” He ate the fish quickly for as he chomped down on the first one, he realised just how ravenous he was. This was confusing. Someone had brought him off a mountain, then put him a dungeon and then had left him fish and water. He relaxed though, because he was slowly realising that if the people who had put him in here had wished him dead then they would have simply hewn him as he lay unconscious.

“Ah, Smeagol, I see you're awake.” A rich voice carried from beyond the door, one laden with authority. “May I enter?”

The small gaunt river dweller startled at these words. The voice sounded again. “Smeagol of the river, I ask to come in?”

Smeagol sniffed the air to check for a recognisable scent, and his eyes widened when he realised the voice belong to Gandalf. He replied, “Why does great shiny white wizard wish to speak with us?”

“I will answer your questions if you answer mine Smeagol.”

Smeagol hoisted his foot to his mouth and chewed on his ground down toenails as he decided. “ Smeagol says yes. But no tricksies!”

“Gandalf promises no tricksies.”

“Then shiny white wizard can come in.”

Outside the door, Gandalf breathed a sigh of relief. He had had no desire to leave this benighted creature here if it could be prevented. He had to make Smeagol realise that things could get better again and when he had granted permission, Gandalf had been able to sense the change.

He turned to one of the Guards and nodded. The guard glanced at the cell behind him with distaste but he he did not hesitate in allowing Mithrandir access. Subtle were the affairs of wizards and not to anger them remained wise even during the ending of the Age of Rings. The door clanged shut behind him, for though the wizard had permission to enter, not until his lord Aragorn bade him thus, would the guard allow Smeagol an exit.

Gandalf strode through, tall and resplendent still, though he seemed lighter in posture. He sat down cross legged in the corner across from Smeagol, who sniffed and viewed him with naked curiosity.

“Well then", said Gandalf, “I was the one to ask entry and so I have asked you a question. So now it is your turn to ask me one.”

Smeagol cocked his head. He had so many questions but he was used to evil torturers and annoyed Hobbits. Those he could outwit with his low cunning and find out what they were after. Here, in this place with the ancient wizard, he knew that his usual tricks would avail him not. The fact that he was thinking about that made him pause. Unbidden images of the forest lady came to mind and he remembered how he had felt the tug of kindness. It had been a strange feeling. He spoke because of that.

“Why help Smeagol and offer him fish and water? The men in metal outside want to hack Smeagol. The fat Hobbit would have done so if Smeagol had not helped other Hobbit.”

Gandalf nodded. It seemed that once more Galadriel's wisdom was matched by her perception. He would not have mourned much had Smeagol perished, though nor would he have celebrated. But now, he had a duty, and Smeagol was under his protection.

When then will I be allowed to rest? He thought to himself. For I grow tired and would depart Middle Earth.

“White wizard does not answer Smeagol...”

“I apologise Smeagol, I was thinking about your questions and how things affected me, and what I must now do. But in answer I say this to you, your actions on the mountain showed that you were not so far gone as to be wholly ruined, not so far gone as to be but a slave of the Ring beyond its own destruction. Such an act should be lauded.”

“Smeagol has no lord.” He replied, not quite understanding what Gandalf had meant, as he had travelled for so long on his own, many words had been lost to him.

Gandalf realised this and pity held his words. Perhaps this pity was similar to what both Bilbo and Frodo had felt when they had had Goll- Smeagol- at their mercy.

“No Smeagol, to laud an act is different, the way you speak changes a little. In this case it means that people should be told that did a good act.”

“But if words are tricksy anyone could make them mean what they-” he stopped short and realised that he had been led to see what he himself had done so many times. He finished weakly, “Oh.”

“This does not mean you will be allowed to go free though, not yet." Gandalf looked at him sternly, and spoke softly "For we must yet discern what motive you might still have, and whether or not it is dangerous.”

Gleaming eyes locked with Gandalf's. “Smeagol wants to stay free! he swears he will do better by the pr- no... By the shining light of the trees and pond elf lady that spoke in his head!”

Gandalf nodded. “It can be made so. But to do so I will need your promise. Give me your most sacred word and I will have you released. But know this, if you should break the laws of men, you will be imprisoned again and held for some time.”

“Can Smeagol go to Shire? He wants to help Frodo he does.”

“I think Frodo would agree though first I would ask it of him. Master Samwise really would not want to you to go there.”

“That's that then! Shire it is!”

Gandalf left and Smeagol snickered to himself whilst rolling around the floor. “Fat hobbit doesn't want Smeagol in Shire. But if Smeagol sticks to new rules, fat hobbit can't do anything!”

Gandalf strode on, heading to Frodo's the chamber, stopping only to pick up a small box from his own quarters. He carried on rapidly to where a conscious and content Frodo was talking with Samwise Gamgee and he nodded at the latter.

“I have spoken with Smeagol and have seen the wonder of Galadriel's rescue for myself. He is not the best there will ever be of his race but nor is he the vile creature he once was. The good that remained within has started to climb back, but ever will he be mischievous, and will strain at the yolk if ordered. Nonetheless, he is free to act for himself.”

Frodo sighed. relieved “That's good to hear at least. Where would he go though?”

Sam snickered. “ I told Gandalf that I'd be happy with Smeagol going anywhere but the Shire.”

“That, master Samwise, was the pivotal point in him deciding to go there.”

Sam groaned as Frodo fell back on his bed, laughing gently, Then though, a thought crossed his mind. “Putting all humour to one side Gandalf, what if he fell back into true evil?”

“Then he would be finally be lost.”

“Which wouldn't surprise me at all." Sam put up one hand as Gandalf started to speak, “But he saved us back there, so he has to have the chance. And I'll be watching out for Mister Frodo the whole time and so will Merry and Pippin.”

Gandalf replied, “That is not all which should gladden your hearts for when we brought you safe home, we found these upon Sam.” Gandalf held out his hand out and within were the Elven treasures bestowed upon them by Galadriel; the box with soil from Lothlorien and one golden seed, and the glass with Elvish light that did not dim.

“Well, I'll be blowed.” Sam slapped his knees and grinned a wide grin. “ I thought they'd surely have been lost on the mountain.”

Gandalf shook his head his own smiled wide. “Not so, master Gamgee. The lady of Lothlorien's gifts are not that fragile. Much like her, they look slender and frail but are in truth like ancient trees, oft tougher than the most wrought steel.


	4. Hobbit and Habbits and Hullaballoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of fashion advice is acted on. Everybody decides to wind down. Doing so at the same time means a bit of chaos.

Meriadoc Brandybuck bundled more supplies onto the wagon, needing a small step to be able to reach up to the man that was stacking everything on to the wagon. Merry had asked him his name when they met but for a good few seconds, he hadn't replied.  
Then the tall human had reached down with an outstretched hand and simply said “Beregond.”  
Merry had frowned for a moment at that as he knew he knew the name from somewhere, then he clasped the humans hand in a fierce grip and smiled widely. “Beregond. The man who defended Faramir in the tower! Pippin said it was one of the most loyal things he’d ever seen!”  
Merry’s eyes widened some when Beregond flushed and the big man’s eyes went to the floor  
“Me?" Beregond said, “I am nothing next to Master Samwise. He followed his master into Mordor itself!”  
“And you would not have gone with Faramir, had he asked it of you?”  
“True, Master Merry, but he would have had to actually ask.”  
Merry put up his hands conceding the issue, and simply beckoned to the next package to be lifted for placement.

* * *

There was nothing but a shadow flitting from hiding place to hiding place. Smeagol whilst learning new things, still knew his old skills. Today he had decided to follow Frodo's orders and replace his clothing; or as Frodo had put it, get, and start wearing, some pants. Fortunately, there were these Hobbits... and a washing line. So even as Meriadoc Brandybuck hung up his and briefs and trousers, the instant his back was turned, they were pilfered from the line. 

Merry came back to the line and sighed. That was the fifth pair of trousers and the fourth pair of under garments that had gone missing. He had a strong suspicion of who had taken them too... 

"Well if it is him.. at least we're all going to be better off when we finally see him..."

* * *

 

Aragorn looked down at his bondsman and friend Peregrin Took, and spoke quite seriously. 

“Peregrin Took, savior of Faramir, King’s Man. I hereby charge you to return to the part of my realm known as the Shire and keep watch upon it. Stay there and protect it there from the fell creatures that evade us. I also have a very serious job for you in Bree!”

Aragorn stretched to his full height and place his hands on his hips. With his most regal authority Aragorn made his order: “Have a pint of ale for me!”

The sound of a peeved Halfling kicking his King’s shin resounded throughout the citadel, followed by him saying “...Idiot.”

A couple of the Black Guards of Gondor moved towards Pippin, intending to arrest him but Aragorn waved them down. “Nay, there is no offense here for 'tis his job as King’s Man to call out those in authority on any foolish behavior.”

The men shrugged and relaxed, but remained puzzled.

Pippin grinned. Then it faded as Aragorn’s smile disappeared. “Ah, visitors.” 

Walking towards them were Frodo and Smeagol, Frodo having slowed down when he heard the sound of foot to shin combat.

Pippin for his part gawped, the untamed creature next to Frodo getting his full attention. “What is that?”

“It’s a Hobbit, same as you, silly. Tch, silly Hobbitses,” quipped Smeagol.

“That’s- not what I- I mean- you- aggghhh!”

“This, Pippin, is Smeagol. You may have heard of him.” Frodo had a slight smile on his lips. Smeagol being faster than Pippin had amused him greatly. Also, considering all the time he’d been pranked by Pippin, and some of the foolish stuff Pippin had been known to pull, (like kicking the King’s shins in the King’s hall, in front of the King’s men) this felt good to watch.

Pippin continued gawping, stunned by actually meeting the bogeyman of the ballads of Bilbo Baggins. Smeagol didn't look as wild as Pippin had imagined he would, but that was probably because he would no longer be starving.

“Metal Hobbit is staring at us. being silly, anyone might think he never saw other Hobbitses before.”

Pipping pouted. “Oi. Right you, less of that. You know what I meant.”

Smeagol nodded. “A good thing Smeagol can think better than you can talk then isn't it?”

Pippin shrugged and gave up, especially in light of the chuckling his ears were detecting. Try to stifle it though they might, the guards were only human and Pippin had Hobbit hearing. He groaned then as he recalled that Frodo had once told him that Smeagol was some kind of Halfling himself. Then he had an idea.

“Hullo Smeagol, I finally meet you. I apologize for my lack of manners and my earlier rudeness, for what is a Hobbit if not polite?”

“Rude!” Smeagol quipped.

“Point well made, so please can I get you anything from the King’s larder on behalf of that most generous of Hosts, King Aragorn?” Aragorn just blinked at this. 

“Fish!”

“Then I shall bring you the finest smoked salmon and mackerel from the larders!”

“No! Not the silly ruined burneded stuffs.”

“Um...”

Frodo raised his hand and Pippin looked straight at him without even thinking about it. Smeagol glanced over briefly, his natural wariness informing him that whilst Aragorn was king, Pippin still naturally deferred to Frodo. He also noted that Aragorn seemed unusually relaxed about it. Then again, the kingdom had been saved by Frodo taking the Prec- the accursed One Ring to Mount Doom.

Frodo smiled sideways at Smeagol and just nodded his head. Then he spoke to Pippin. “Two plaice or haddock, uncooked, bring herbs of Basil and Thyme, and Marjoram too.”

“Yes, oh Lord and Master of all he surveys!”

“That’s not much when my eyes are shut--is it Pippin, old fellow?”

With a few chuckles Pippin raced off to the larder, somehow knowing his way there even without having been present in Gondor all that long. Nonetheless, it was a larder and he was a Hobbit. 

Although he was short in stature, evading irate farmers and irate Hobbits had made Pippin fast. Since this gave him a few minutes to spare to detour, he went to see if Merry was where he had last seen him. 

“Merry, come quick.”

“What is it Pippin?”

“Smeagol is in the great hall!"

“Is he attacking?”

“No, he’s ordering fish... wait a minute…” 

* * *

When Pippin returned, bringing a grinning Merry with him, both hobbits were handling baskets of fish, bread and fruit. Merry was grinning. as was Pippin. Then he saw Smeagol leaning nonchalantly against a column and to Pippin's delight asked, “What is that?” 

“Its a Hobbit, silly!” quipped Smeagol. Again. Pippin, knowing what was coming, as soon soon as Merry opened his mouth, had taken a step back so his cousin could not see his face. Now, though, he spoke.

“Merry really, we grew up with Frodo, how could you not know this!”

“Silly Mr Merry Docks!” Smeagol winked at Pippin, impressed with the first Hobbit's adaptability.

“That's not- I meant- you are- agggghhh.”

“No Mr Merry Docks, I’m Smeagol. and I don’t know any ‘aggghhh’.”

In slight irritation but with no real malice Merry threw a fish at Smeagol, who caught in his mouth and started chewing. This somehow encouraged Pippin to try and smack his cousin in the back of the head with a halibut. Merry knew his cousin well enough to expect something like this and dodged. He picked up a fish of his own and started swinging it around. Frodo saw the type of fish and groaned. Whereas Smeagol chewed the tasty fish happily, just watching the silly Hobbits have fun.  
Pippin was ducking and weaving but he just couldn't land a blow. Merry though managed to smack Pippin in the head a few times with his own fish.

“How are you getting through my guard?” asked a slightly surprised Pippin.

“I’m a rider of Rohan, we’re trained to use a pike.”

Pippin just put the fish on the platter, next to all the other food that was being piled up and surrendered.

A rich chuckle sounded throughout the hall as Aragorn found the whole thing somewhat amusing. “Come now all, let us prepare for a feast, for as you were playing, Faramir has informed me that he departs in the morning and you at least Master Meriadoc shall depart with him."

The great table was laden from end to end and the five Halflings grinned at each other, (for the shire folk had admitted to themselves that Smeagol was the same race as they).  
Aragorn and Faramir seated themselves, Eowyn and Arwen accompanied their husbands and Galadriel soon followed. Gandalf entered last by shoving the doors open with a flourish the showman in him irrepressible. Celeborn had volunteered to oversee the last parts of the packing and was therefore absent. 

“White wizard always big show off, Master Frodo?”

“Always!” chimed all four hobbits together.

Gandalf scowled at this but the hobbits knew him too well now as did Aragorn. Aragorn smiled slightly and then picking up a chicken leg, ate heartily. Pippin moved to do the same which was when Merry tried to hit him in the face with a fish again. 

“Oh, showing off being pike-trained are we?”

Faramir groaned and then rose. “Master Meriadoc, Allow me to remind you that true warriors of Rohan do not fight with PIkes. They fight with…halibut!”

“Close enough my love, but we Rohirrim women are better warriors than any other.”

“Oh, really." Arwen said with dry amusement, "I’m sitting right here… Oh dear, you should have ducked…” This last was added as a piece of errant salmon smacked Eowyn in the face.  
Arwen smirked. “Now you’ve been demoted to... fishwife…”

Removing the fish from her face, Eowyn gave Arwen a challenging smile. “You did not just--"

“Yes, I did. Would you like to prove me wrong?”

There was roll and a crash as Arwen was bowled over an onto her back as a fast moving Eowyn leaped the Table in on go. There was a flash as Galadriel decided this silliness looked like too much fun to miss and moved behind Gandalf. Dropping to one leg, she swept his legs away from him and he land with a thump on his rear end.

The food flew thick and fast and as Arwen wrapped slender elven legs around Eowyn’s waist. Eowyn didn't do much to disprove the ‘fishwife’ theory with her resultant cursing. But even as she did, Faramir moved up quietly behind Aragorn to aid the side of Rohan. He brought up a platter of meats, and got a back kick in the shins for his trouble. Aragorn followed up by reversing Faramir’s move and giving him a friendly smack in the face with the platter. As Faramir blinked, Aragorn grabbed him in a headlock.

Arwen smiled up at him. “Good idea.” And she added a headlock to Eowyn’s problems.

Aragon grinned as Faramir became more flustered. “Silly bugger thought he could sneak up on a Ranger.”

Elsewhere the missiles, formerly potatoes, were flying as Sam and Smeagol hurled spuds at one another, also deflecting incoming shots with formerly full platters. Seeing how fast Sam was, Smeagol change tactics and jumped up onto the now slippery table. With one foot on a tray and the other scooting him along, Smeagol slid down the table and dropped to his belly putting his arms out as he sped past Sam. Sam was clothes-lined. 

“Smeagol is an elf-lord!” He exclaimed and by complete fluke did so, just as Legolas chose that exact moment to walk in and ended up just standing there, nonplussed. 

Gimli who was walking in with him grinned from ear to ear. Then he doubled over and at that point, Legolas had had enough. He strung a fish to his bow… and fired at Gimli’s groin. Gimli's axe smacked it out of the air and he blew a raspberry at the elf... and kept blowing for none have the lung capacity to truly blow a raspberry, save the Dwarves.

Nearby Smeagol stood up and blew his own (much shorter) raspberry at the semi conscious Sam and sprinted back to the other side. He was having FUN. He reasoned that if Aragorn and Arwen won too quickly, the fun would be over so he dropped down next to Arwen and tickled her back, surprising her enough to make her let go of her opponent. She turned to grab Smeagol but in so doing, allowed Eowyn to wriggle free and reverse the situation. This she did she did with a figure four leg lock. Smeagol moved on, being happy to have gotten someone else. Aragorn was next.

Meanwhile Gandalf was sitting comfortable, messing around with a picture emanating from his outstretched hand. Galadriel was doing the same and the two magic users were having a friendly thumb wrestle, using magicked up thumbs to do so. As Smeagol crashed through them on his way to interfere with Aragorn and Faramir's match, he squealed delightedly as he slapped both thumbs down.

Aragorn tumbled down even as Smeagol careened into his legs and Faramir took advantage of the break to assist his betrothed Eowyn by pushing Arwen onto her back.  
Arwen shouted something in Elvish and Legolas responded. As he did so Sam Gamgee decided he wasn't letting it get too uneven and barrel rolled, making Legolas have to leap over him and dodge to avoid Aragorn, and also messing up the tussling over there.

When things resumed and Smeagol looked up, Aragorn was now wrestling Eowyn and Faramir was in one of Arwen’s headlocks. Faramir went down first but Aragorn tickled Eowyn's neck and then he and Arwen pinned an arm each. This disqualified the Rohanites.

“Two for Gondor,” chuckled Aragorn.

“Speak for yourself beloved. Mine was for Rivendell!" As Aragorn blinked, she showed him why Eowyn had had trouble with her leg-lock. 

“I can still win!”

“If you do," retorted Arwen, "I’ll ask my father to give you a lecture.”

“I concede.”

Smeagol looked around. He’d taken out the wizard and the elf lady. Gimli and Legolas had fallen over and landed on Merry and Pippin. so they were out of it too. That left Arwen and himself. He felt like he’d forgotten someone.

“Elf queen, winner last one standing up wins?”

“I accept, Smeagol!”

He’d thought she’d accept, so he’d gotten ready and as she said yes rolled off the table and tried to jump, trying to knock her over whilst staying upright. She was stronger than she looked and took hold of him. But although she was strong enough to catch him, momentum did bowl them both over.

A voice carried cheerfully to all the dazed contestants whilst they were figuring out who won. “Last one standing, wasn't it?” With that, Frodo Baggins strolled out from behind the suit of armor he’d used for concealment, taking a bite out an apple he had had gotten from somewhere.  
The looks of irritation Frodo got were replaced quickly as first Aragorn and then Faramir laughed. They were swiftly joined quickly by merry elven chuckling. Soon everyone except Smeagol was at it. The latter just walked over, sidestepping a rising Arwen (being helped up by a giggling Eowyn) and embraced Frodo warmly.

“Mister Frodo has got the sneakys learned!”

“I had an excellent teacher.” Frodo clasped Smeagol warmly as he said this.

* * *

The next day and departure came all too soon, but even though parting with Aragorn and Arwen was sweet sorrow, high spirits remained. As the wagons trundled out and the the remaining travelers began their journeys home, Smeagol helped as best he could by making light work of it. By which is meant, he reduced the amount of fish that had to be loaded.  
As the wagons set off with riders on horses and hobbits sitting on seats and one elf and one dwarf trying to outdo each other, Smeagol lay on top to the wagon Frodo rode on and allowed himself to sit in the sun; He wasn't going to hide from it this time.


	5. Back on Track

 

The caravan trundled on its merry way, the royal escorts of Queen Galadriel and King Celeborn, along with those of King Eomer providing more than adequate protection. King Elessar and his men rode with them too, so there was no question of attack from any remaining Orc or brigands. Any remaining foe with more courage than sense of self preservation would also have Gandalf the white to face.

Smeagol lay on his back on top of one the wagons, chewing on a recently caught fish, with a single elven guard watching out for him. Along with the fellowship, the guard was only one unsurprised that Smeagol caught a fish each day since leaving. The latter was even now boiling rice and preparing a fish to try out in new meal one of the Lothlorien elves had termed, ‘Sushi’.

They had been sat down for evening rest, the campfires crackling and roasting coneys as the elves sat upwind.

His halfling curiosity returning, Smeagol had skittered over and sat near to the elven contingent, but had not spoken. The Elves for their part had taken stock of where he was and then returned to eating their meal.

The smell of the food made Smeagol’s mouth water and he looked around for the elves' campfire. One of them managed to work out what he was doing and smiled gently. The elf spoke softly, for he knew that the unexpected visitor was not the same Kind of Halfling as Frodo and his boisterous crowd, even now when the four had become more restrained. 

“Smeagol yes?”

“No, just Smeagol.” The elf opened his mouth slightly to say something to clarify what he’d mean and saw the slight tug at the corners of Smeagol’s mouth, barely seen in time even with Elven eyes. The elf tilted his head and smiled at Smeagol, letting him know that he’d nearly fallen for the little Prankster’s trick.

“Then welcome Halfling, to our fire. Come closer if you will. But tell us, what brings you here?”

“I can smell elfe's food but I can not see elfse's cooking fire. I ate fish and rice and ate it cold but You're Elveses and you cook.

“Not always, sometime we eat our fish cold with rice. Unlike humans or Dwarves we can eat it this way for we have different palates.”

Cold fish? Not burned? Smeagol grinned. He nodded at the Elves and gave a 'I’ll just be minute gesture’ before he scampered away to find Sam Gamgee. 

“Fatso. Come quick!”

The three Hobbits next to Sam looked at Smeagol and chorused. “He means you, Sam.”  
Sam Gamgee put up his fists in mock seriousness and was about to try to say something witty. But then he thought of a much better way of getting his own back. 

“Right then, I suppose you’re right…” His smile had Merry and Pippin looking worried suddenly. They were right to be concerned.

“Merry. You need to keep the stew stirred, and Pippin, you need to get them plates washed up for servin’ since I won’t be doing it now. Mister Frodo, you’re responsible for oversight sir. Back soon, ta-ta!”

Sam and Smeagol strode off at a brisk space both grinning. They gave each other a nod, their usual antipathy for one another suppressed for now. 

“What just happened there?” said a somewhat Pippin studying the tea towel Sam had simply dumped in his hand.

Merry had no answer.

 

* * * 

Sam grinned as the Elves went over it again to be sure. It was a strange combination to be sure, fish and rice but if it was food he could cook it or he wasn't a Hobbit. He didn’t care that the elves ate it without cooking, he’d find a way to make it interesting with cookery. It had boggled Smeagol’s mind and Sam’s too, that the Elves had a meal that relied on serving fish cold. The former enemies had looked at each other and grinned.

“So basically, here’s a recipe that he and I can agree on, we just disagree on how it should be served eh?”

The lead Elf smiled and nodded. “So, it would seem gentlefolk.”

“Fish is better cold.” Four words constituted the entirety of Smeagol’s argument

“Heathen.” Sam argued right back at him. Then he clicked his fingers and gave Smeagol a look the Stoor regarded as suspicious.

“Smeagol old chap, if I can cook a meal for you that tastes better than the same dish cold... you have to start wearing something on your top.”  
“A hat?”

“Ah, no, I meant like shorts or a jacket.”

“Oh and if I don’t likes this mealses?

“Then between here and Hobbiton I carry the fish you catch.”

“Okay then master Samwise… wait…”

“What is it?” Sam enquired, his hand on his sword hilt but looking out where Smeagol was no scanning.

“Lots of mens are putting up a banners and getting their horns ready. But I feels it a good thing”

Sam smiled sadly. “There’s been enough bad until right recently, and seeing this reminds me there’s honour in the word.

“What is it?”

“This? It’s a promise being kept old chap.”

Trumpets sounded loudly then and King Elessar, (but always Aragorn to the fellowship) blew a mighty on his own horn and his heralds shouted out

“Behold, the King Elessar is come! The forest of Druadan he gives to Ghan-buri-ghan and to his folk, to be their own forever; and hereafter let no man enter it without their leave!"

The mighty drums of the forest men sounded their great beat once more and then fell silent.

Crafty Hillmen, Smeagol thought, can’t even smells them. They stayed behind the wind.

“So, Smeagol, I think they’ve gone.” Sam whispered. 

“Why?” asked Smeagol genuinely surprised at Sam’s perceptiveness.

“The forest seems different and after everything I’ve been through I can feel the difference of been watched."

Smeagol knew that feeling far too well and unlike Sam, still mostly awoke with it.

* * *

 

Frodo Baggins awoke to strange sight the the next day although he hadn’t been able to figure what it was at first. Then after a few minutes, he realised Smeagol was clad in pants and shirt.

“When did that happen Smeagol?

“After master Samwise cooked a delicious fish rice dinner.

Frodo lay back, chewing a straw and thought. 'I know the greatest beings in the world, I travelled into the darkest places and destroyed the ring, and yet seeing Smeagol wearing shirt and pants surprised me. It’s good that the world still has new things for me to see.'

A fortnight passed and in the first week, Frodo dismissed the guard on Smeagol, and no one made an issue of it. The change in manner of the Stoor had been noted. he remained uncouth and sarcastic but, if it looked like becoming a problem Frodo just asked him to stop. 

They found themselves passing through the green fields of Rohan, sometimes passing the sorrowing sight of a destroyed village but far more often, the flow of people returning and rebuilding. 

Upon arriving at Edoras, Eomer took the throne and his men took the body of Theoden to his final resting place, and with them, given the task of sounding the last horn for the great king, was Meriadoc Brandybuck.

The great hall filled up and life returned to Edoras, and many thought about how the old king had brought hope to many through the darkness when evil seemed triumphant. And the songs that sang his praises were many.

Once his duties were finished, Meriadoc BrandyBuck found himself a quiet corner, outside, and held sat with his arms round his knees and laid his head down. He cried quietly, letting his grief flow. He had half expected to hear a now familiar voice disturb him when it did.

“Mister Merry?” Smeagol had, unknown to Merry taken a perch nearby dangling his feet off the eaves of the building he’d chosen. with a deft slide, he dropped to the ground. landing easily on his feet standing.

“Oh, hello there old chap, I’d like to be alone. I’m not really feeling like being around anyone right now.”

“I understand.” Smeagol nodded his head 

If he had been in better mood, Merry would have smiled at how much Smeagol’s motion reminded him of Pippin, when the other Shire Halfling was being mock serious. Then he changed his mind about being alone

“Tell you what, if you can be quiet , have a seat.”

“You can trust me.”

“I didn’t when we first met and I’m still watching out for Frodo. But we told Aragorn we’d fight him if we needed to, back when we first met him too. But we’re Hobbits and we look at what a person does.”

Smeagol burned with questions, but Merry was filling his pipe with Old Toby now. He offered some of the leaf,but the Stoor declined. He just sat back and watched the tall folk hustle about. 

“You see," said Merry as though the five minutes of silence simply hadn’t happened, "Theoden saw beyond my size and Gandalf and Galadriel saw hope for you.”

Smeagol blinked, for he hadn’t mentioned what happened with Galadriel and himself. He looked at merry and saw the amused smile on his current companion’s face, tinged with sadness though it was.

“Oh come now, do you really think that after everything my friends and I have been through, we wouldn’t see how you act and how different you are near the fair queen?”

“Oh.” 

“Quite right too. Did you really think you were the only sneaky Halfling around here?”

Smeagol frowned, Then he shrugged. If it was only a Hobbit that mentioned it, it was okay. The five of them were distantly related after all. 

*

Frodo shook his head. “No my lord, I simply do not agree that he will fall back to ruin, not if he is around his own kind and therefore able to bring back to mind what he is supposed to be.”

Eomer made to disagree but stopped himself. “I have fought for so long and have seen so much, with so much of it coming to a ruinous end that it has coloured my thoughts and now, as a king, I must ask the questions that no else can, or would dare to.”

Frodo smiled slightly. “It's easier for us Hobbits. We’ve got Pippin for that.”

“In truth.”

“Oh yes, it’s one of mine and merry's strongest beliefs that Pippin asks questions no one else would dare to!”

"I have heard some of them!" The rich sound of the horse lord’s laugh was a strong contrast to Frodo’s restrained mirth, but both lasted a good minutes. 

 

*

 

“With grace such as that, you could make the very walls of my home weep with joy,” Gimli told Arwen

|Arwen gave the Dwarf a small, elegant nod. “Master Gimli, with graciousness of such words, you remind my people of the joy of creation and art that your people possess.”

Gimli chuckled. “But I wonder why I find you here alone when Aragorn remains within the Halls. Is he not still a Ranger, that he should be moved by the beauty of all of this?"

“He is but I asked him to find elsewhere to be For a few hours, for i would have other company, that of lady Eowyn, and I find it amusing to indulge.”

“Amusing?”

“She asked one thing of me in a single word.”

“May I enquire as to that word?” G

“Rematch.”

*

Gandalf sat near a tree and smoked his pipe. The Hobbits were healed for the most part, though darkness remained over Frodo and Smeagol. Galadriel sat close by.

“You think they will win through.” Gandalf said as he tapped his pipe, emptying out the burned out ashes of used leaf, allowing better flow of the remnant.

“Yes. The strength in them shines through the deepest dark.”

“This I have known for many years, even as far back as when I travelled to bag end to hire Bilbo.”

“Ah the test yet to come. It may well be a sore trial for them both.”

 

* * *

The time to depart came all too soon, and and it was time for Arwen Evenstar to travel once more along her own chosen path.

* * *  
The remaining travellers were near the gates of Edoras, now restored and Eomer and Eowyn came to bid them farewell.

Eomer smiled widely as he clasped Merry by the hand. “Farewell now Meriadoc of the Shire and Holdwine of the Mark. Ride to good fortune and ride back soon to our welcome!”

Eomer then held out a horn to Merry and with reverence spoke of his parting gift. “My ancestors would have showered you in gift and honours that would make two wagons strain to carry them but you refuse near everything, taking only with you the arms you were given. This I accept for I have nothing worthy of you but my sister asks that you honour the memory of the warrior that was Dernhelm.”

Merry took it slowly and respectfully adding his own words to eomer's. “And also the memory of the horns of the Mark at the coming of morning.”

Merry and Eowyn shared a smile and the ever curious Smeagol was minded, (if not as strongly) of the Kinship of Frodo and Sam. 

“This horn is an heirloom of ours, made by the Dwarves and came from the hoard of Scatha the Worm, with Eorl the young. He that blows it in need will gladden his friends and his enemies will know fear.”

“It’s... magic?” asked Smeagol cautiously, not wanting to offend anyone .

Merry took the horn graciously and turned his face to Smeagol. “In its own way Smeagol, but it’s a gift that comes such a generous heart, that it must be accepted. 

Smeagol looked back over his shoulder as they departed, pondering over the farewell. Two great names of Rohan were there to see them away. Four of the dwindling party were great of stature, and no one would have been surprised if it was for them. 

Smeagol thought, 'But it’s for Halflings and that is a good thing.' He knew it was good thing because it showed what they could achieve when they bent their will to it.

Riding close by, and as unobtrusively as only Galadriel could chose to be, the Elven queen smiled as she watched the Stoor’s face. The change was in him was deepening.


	6. Legacies of Isengard: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tower of Isengard stands empty, Smeagol goes fishing and manages to accidentally delay a very important handover. and Pippin reminds us that he is Pippin

Chapter Six.

Legacy of Isengard: Part One

 

The sun continued to shine and the party made merry as the days greeted them like old friends, with warmth and the gentle caress of the wind. Smeagol once more lay atop one of the wagons of the Lothlorien elves, occasionally getting down and strolling through the bracken.

A familar booming voice caught Smeagol's attention easily. “Greetings to you master, Smeagol. The wet behind the ears Elven princeling and I were just going to take a trip to The Glittering caves. Would you care to join us?” Gimli’s deep voice was unmistakable, as was his bantering tone.

“Hey, I object!” Legolas’s false anger was also unmistakable.

“Ye object to me offering to show this fine fellow around some of the loveliest caves in this world doy e?”

Legolas laughed. “No, I just object to being called wet behind the ears.”

Gimli sighed theatrically. “I had to go and make friends with the jester of Mirkwood didn’t I?”

Elven laughter carried easily through the new trees that now grew near Helm’s Deep, and Legolas started singing an old sweet elven Melody. His companions followed the song in their own way. Gimli secured his axe and bowed his head as they reached the border, remembering how the trees of Fangorn had soaked up the orc horde that had tried to flee the Rohirrim counter attack. His securing of his weapon was in part , common sense and in other part, deep respect. Smeagol just walked close to the elf.

The trio eventually came the great battered gates of Helm’s Deep, where Elf and Dwarf stopped and knelt to honour the fallen. 

Smeagol could feel it, the sense of destruction and desperation hanging in the air, he felt compelled to stand back and watch the other two. It was so different the way they acted here, compared to their normal bickering selves. Neither the elf nor the Dwarf was the quiet type.

“Legolas.”

“Gimli?”

“There is something I would do before we go into the caves themselves. Would you see that the Horn of Helm Hammerhands still stands?”

“I can see it.” 

“With it I will honour the dead that fell here.” Gimli’s voice was softer than usual though his accent was just as deep. he made his way to the great horn and looked out over the battlefield. His hands grasped the horn firmly and he took a mighty breath. Gimli blew

One more time, the Horn of Helm Hammerhand sounded over the deep, but this was no call to war. This was a victory cry, the great note carried on the wind, powered by the great lungs of Gimli, son of Gloin. 

Every nerve in Smeagol’s body tensed and as the first great wail sounded, he wanted to turn and flee but he steeled himself; The loud horn only makes evil creatures fear it. I if run away now, I’m giving up, and saying I’m evil, and I won’t! 

Gimli’s horn call ceased but not before many creatures had heard and been given hope. Those creatures that still served evil purpose and lurked within its range turned away and fled. 

Gimli rejoined Legolas and Smeagol and together the mismatched trio entered the Glittering Caves. The sight Smeagol found within was beyond his words. Much to his surprise, speaking seemed beyond Legolas too. When they returned to camp the elf said that only Gimli could speak truly about them. So it was that Dwarf won a contest of word with an elf.

Legolas clapped his hands together when he realised this exclaiming “So we must travel to Fangorn and set the score right.”

Smeagol scowled and added “It sounds like the score is already right. and it’s just because mr big head Elfy prince is a sore loser.”

There was quite some merriment at this and when Legolas tried to claim Smeagol knew nothing about losing bets, he just responded by pointing to his legs and stating; “Pants.”

 

* * *

When at last, the travellers came to Isengard, they were met with a wonderful view. Before them lay what was now a vast orchard and Ents bustled about all over, caring for it. A stream now ran through the centre where once had stood foul buildings and this new river circled the great tower of Orthanc. The tower stood, tall and regal, seemingly as impregnable as ever and its black stone was mirrored in the waters below.

The sense of decorum held by Gandalf and Galadriel broke though when a squeal of delight pierced the air and they heard a splashing sound. Galadriel gave a regal little laugh but did not turn round. She already knew who had stripped off his clothes (except for his loincloth) and gone fishing 

 

*  
“Mister Frodo sir.”

“Yes Sam?”

“Right now, I’m really happy that I won that cookery bet.” Sam pointed to a rapidly minting pile of fish.

*.

 

Merry and Pippin laughed hard and shared out the remaining pipeweed left five ways. Pippin grinned. “Meriadoc old chap, what do you think?

Merry puffed on his pipe and chewed his lip, doing a comical impression of the Gaffer. “Well, now that you ask, Peregrin old chum, it looks to be in much better shape than the last time we were here. Then again everything looks better once you’ve left the place!”

Pippin nodded sagely, willfully ignoring the bait “It’s probably because of all those skilled woodsmen!”

*

 

They waited for a little while where the great gates had stood, but where now instead, towered two great trees, like sentinels.

Gandalf the White sat in the shade of one of the trees, knowing that they were speaking to each other about him. He also knew what who else they were conversing with when he recognised the scent of an old friend.

Treebeard strode into view and gave a small nod of recognition to the party. He spoke as though it was simply a continuation of the last conversation he had had to Gandalf and the wizard reflected that to Treebeard, it probably was. 

“Welcome to the Treegarth or Orthanc old friend.’ he said in his hooming voice, ‘I would have greeted you sooner but there is still much work left needing my guidance. But speaking of works I hear that I was not the only one who was busy! “

Treebeard then recited the deeds of the company, all of which he had full knowledge. The list continued on but Gandalf did not interrupt.

Treebeard’s voice echoed across the Tregarth as he made his recitation but eventually even an Ent will pause and after he did, he turned to address the rest of the company. 

“Greetings and salutations young masters upon this fine day that has the sun shining, the birds singing and good company arriving with great tales and welcome news!”

“Hello. Good to see you.” said Quickbeam. Merry and Pippin weren’t quite sure, but they thought they might have detected a small frown on Treebeard’s face. Merry looked at Quickbeam and was fairly sure he saw the faintest hint of a smile there. 

Even as all this was happening, Smeagol it all since he was fishing without a care in the world. Fish meant that things were good and tasted good. But his reverie was interrupted by a booming voice.

“I know of you Smeagol of the dark shadows. I would have words with you for your deeds leave much to be answered for. Where it not for the presence of masters Gandalf and lady Galadriel you would have met death by my hand. Still, You will explain yourself to me.”

Smeagol paddled to the river bank and hauled himself out. He nodded to the great Ent as he put on his pants, pulling on his shirt as he walked forwards. 

The ancient Ent loomed over Smeagol, frowning all the time. “I will hear your story master Smeagol and make no mistake while I shall listen to the counsel of these worthy folk I will make my own decision so take your time and speak nothing untrue!”

“I was bad, and then lady Galadriel helped me to get better and I am staying better. and if you don’t believe me then I’m not going to bother saying anything else because that’s what it is. So there!”

With his last two words, Smeagol dropped to the ground and sat cross legged with his arms folded he also stuck his tongue out at Treebeard.

“Hoom, I feel the breeze and I know when the direction changes. And you have changed direction.but whether this will be good or bad is yet to be seen but it will be decided elsewhere. Swim and fish but respect the river,”

Smeagol didn’t need telling twice; There was a leap and a splash. Whilst everyone else blinked at the fish that landed at their feet a split second later, Frodo and Sam had expected precisely this, fish included.

“Hooray! Treebeard said we could go swimming!”

Frodo’s head whipped round in time to see Merry and Pippin taking off their trousers and shirts. This he had not anticipated.

“Well, Mr Frodo,’ Sam said, ‘It’s almost like having three Smeagols.”

“Yes Sam, and having them over there in the river is a holiday all by itself.”

“I heard that!” Said Pippin.

“You were meant to.” replied Frodo sitting himself down comfortably in the shade of one of the many convenient trees.

Frodo turned his attention to the people on the shore, where Treebeard changed topics to the fate of Saruman and Orthanc,. He smiled, listening to Sam interject every so often, pleased that the wise counselors knew he was easily their equal. 

Frodo frowned at the news that Saruman had charmed Treebeard and eyed the great tower warily, a chill briefly afflicting him and he knew the legacy of Isengard was not over yet. 

He continued to gaze at the tower’s walls… including the small and unmistakable figure clinging to the side as it ascended. He looked over his shoulders to see if anyone else had noticed the climber and when it seemed that none of them had, he stood and stretched. Then he strolled along to the water’s edge, following it until he found Merry and Pippin.

“Hullo, Frodo, why don’t you and Sam join us? The water’s lovely.” Merry floated over as he spoke. The angle made it far easier for Frodo to point out the black dot moving up the side of the (wrongly) allegedly impenetrable tower.

There was whoosh of water as the river closed over Merry’s head and he sank though momentary lack of concentration.

“That’s why!”

Pippin too treaded water as he saw the now familiar shape, “Wow, he can climb fast!”

“We have to get him back down!”

“I’m on it, I’ll go bring him back.” With that Pippin struck out for the base of the tower and Frodo breathed a sigh of relief. He craned his neck in order to keep Smeagol in sight and waited for Pippin to call him back. Instead he groaned as a second shape started ascending Orthanc.

*

Halfway up the side of Orthanc finding handhold after handhold like only he could, Smeagol felt really happy. The thrill of this climb, with the clear view and the wind in his hair, made it the best he’d had in many years.. Upon finding a ledge to sit on he dangled his legs over the precipice and looked down at the way the river circled the great tower.

He peered down at the hobbits, his vision good enough to tell each of them apart even for this height. Frodo was stood at the river bank,s staring straight back at him and he did not look all that amused. Sam Gamgee looked at him, then at Frodo then shrugged and waited for instruction from his young master.

Merry was treading water, and Smeagol couldn’t see Pippin cough and that made him blink in surprise. he looked over the valley again and had no idea where the mischief prone hobbit had gotten, until a few minutes when a hand appeared over the ledge and Peregrin Took hauled himself up,

“Hullo Smeagol, Nice view up here, isn’t it?” Pippin said this in the voice he use after enjoying pipeweed, cheery and pretty much without a care in the world.

“Yes, it is but I’m not stopping. I want to see what’s on the top!”

“Frodo wants you to come down.”

“And I will once I’ve finished going up and having a look. After that, I promise to go all the way back down.”

Pippin chewed his lip and then beamed at Smeagol. “Makes sense to me, The sooner we get up there then the sooner we’ll start back down then eh?

Smeagol just beamed back as he restarted his ascent, this time with Peregrin Took keeping close. Mischief prone had been an accurate description and it seemed that it was infectious.

*

 

Gandalf puffed on his pipe as Treebeard finished informing him of Saruman’s last days in Orthanc. He pursed his lips and said “I notice old friend that you say ‘did, was, couldn’t, and wouldn't’. I cannot help but notice that all of these are of the past tense. Has Saruman died?

Treebeard hoomed, “Not dead but gone. You well know that I detest caging living things. There was little left of him and his worm creature was as a shadow. Do not tell me now that I promised to keep him safe; for I know it and I kept him safe. Safe from doing harm. A snake without fangs may crawl where he will.”

“You may be right,’ said Gandalf, ‘but this snake had one tooth left I think, A spot of venom to worm itself into your heart, for he knew of your compassion and used it to persuade you to free him. Nonetheless, it is done and cannot be undone. But for now let us speak of the fate of Orthanc itself. Now the key should go to the king, though he may not need it, Have you any reason to refuse it to him?”

Treebeard gazed at Aragon and for a normal being it would have been long and uncomfortable but Aragorn was a Ranger and a king of men and Elrond had shaped his adolescence, so this was something he had more than enough patience for.  
Finished at last, Treebeard said, “I see no darkness the Ents would fear and Aragorn son of Arathorn, friend to.., hoom, yes, a man we will surrender the keys to. But should you fall to darkness, and the need comes, we would the tower away once more.

Aragorn smiled. “Then this valley is in good care indeed here and now I grant the Ents this valley and see that none enter it without my leave..”

Treebeard rustled forwards as close to an approximation of a short bow as an old Ent could manage.“We shall-

“I wouldn’t finish that exchange just yet!” 

Treebeard blinked, surprised once more by the hastiness of the short folk he had met. This time though, as Frodo stood there panting , The old Ent was in good company fo aragorn halted in mid sentence and Gandalf clamped down on his pipe.

The breathless Frodo took a minute to compose himself noting as he did so, that Galadriel was smiling faintly and Celeborn’s gaze was elevated. The elf king said nothing about what he saw though.

“What is it Frodo?” asked Gandalf kindly, knowing that the Hobbit would have good reason for this interruption.

Frodo swallowed and just pointed straight at Smeagol, close to the pinnacle of the tower now with a second shape in hot pursuit. “Smeagol went climbing…”

Aragorn blinked, his human eyes only now registering what the elves were bemused by. He recovered quickly as he always did and frowned. There are two shapes up there, surely?”

Frodo put on the same cheerful air that hobbits can assume when they have to be polite even when dealing with a bad day, a trait he had honed over decades from watching his uncle deal with the Sackville-Baggins in the correct Bag End way; Especially with his silverware.

“Well, you see, after Smeagol went for his little climb I realised it was bad idea, so I tried to get him to come down… and Pippin decided the best thing to do was go after him…”

“Fool of a Took!” Gandalf bellowed, unable to believe that after all this time he still found himself in a position to have to say that then he added. “I give up.”

Aragorn looked at Treebeard, then Gandalf, then shrugged. For a man who had spent decades as king inwaiting, another few minutes were as noting. besides which, Pippin was involved so he wasn’t that surprised as Gandalf’s voice boomed through the valley.

*

“”Uh-Oh, Smeagol I think they know we’re up here.” Pippin’s smile was glassy as he stopped dancing on the roof of Orthanc when Gandalf’s words assailed his ears.” I think it may be time to head back down. I’ll Race you?”

“I’ll give you a head start to the middle, then overtake you.”

“Oh, really…”

“Get going.”

*

Frodo craned his neck and shield his eyes, and upon finding his cousin after a short search. “Here comes Pippin now but there’s no sign of Smeagol.”

For his part, as Pippin reached the halfway mark he looked up. Then a shape streaked past him at thirty two per second per second velocity blur, he blinked. “Smeagol?!”

Frodo and the others watched as a shape detached itself from the roof of Orthanc and simply plummeted. It hit the water with a loud ‘splunsh’ and the shoreside Sam Gamgee was drenched. 

Frodo watched as Pippin climbed down normally. thinking all the time quite probably the most sensible thing he’s ever done.

 

***

They gathered together for the ceremony that Pippin and Smeagol’s little adventure had interrupted, after Pippin, Smeagol and Gandalf had a strangely mirthful conversation. Then Aragorn finished declaring the valley and the tower to be within the Ent’s custody and he promised he would send word if Entwives were spotted within his kingdom.

Merry and Pippin drank more Entdraught at the invite of Treebeard and 

As the day drew on Legolas sought permission to visit Fangorn forest with Gimli as his guest.

“Lovely, Lots of trees and after that, lots more trees.” Legolas just rolled his eyes at Gimli’s remarks.

Treebeard skillfully ignored the Dwarf’s comments, his disapproval only being obvious instead of being glaringly, blatantly, screamingly, obvious.

Gimli just shrugged it off. And made ready to keep to his oath to travel with legolas to fangorn forest.

Here then at last comes the ending of the Fellowship of the Ring,’ said Aragorn. ‘Yet I hope that ere long you will return to my land with the help that you promised.”

“We will come, if our own lords allow it,’ said Gimli. “Well, farewell, my hobbits! You should come safe to your own homes now and I will no longer be afraid for you for you have grown mighty in yourselves.”

He paused, regarding Smeagol for minute. “Master Smeagol, one of the things a dwarf may do is bless another with name or a title. You have thrown off the darkness and so i name you ‘Dwarf friend’. May this title sustain you any trials yet to come!”

“And for as long as you remain true to your new path, you may pass freely throughout my father’s lands.” Added Legolas.

Gimli snorted “You can’t stop trying to outdo me can you elf?”

“What can I say? It just comes to me so naturally.” 

“Like my rugged handsomeness!”

“Thank you both,” Smeagol said overwhelmed, ignoring the banter in front of him.

The now inseparable Dwarf and Elf rode away, and at the ridge that would finally obscure them from the remaining company’s sight, Gimli raised his axe to catch the glint of the sun in farewell.

 

*

As the company left Orthanc, they rode on with more speed, reaching the Gap of Rohan swiftly and it was here that the next sundering of the fellowship occurred, for it was time for Aragorn’s destiny to take him a different way.

“Not all that glitters is gold’ said Sam with a smile, his thoughts returning to a meeting in an inn in Bree.

“Well remembered master Gamgee! Well remembered!” Aragorn smiled and turned to Frodo andasked, “Tell me Frodo do I still ‘look foul’ and ‘feel fair’?”

“No, Strider, you do not.”

“Oh, really?”

“Now, old friend you feel fair and look fair also.”

Aragorn smiled and bowed. “From you Frodo Baggins of the shire, such words honour me.”

Pippin sighed. “I wish we could have stone so that we could see our friends and talk theo them from far away.”

“Only one remains that you could use for you wouldn’t want to see what the Stone of Minas Tirith would show you.” said Aragorn

“Of course. Poor Denethor.” Pippin said as he looked over the Gap of Rohan, his jaw clenched. Then he turned to Aragorn. “But let us remember his as the great Lord he once was, abn his great service to Gondor.”

Aragorn nodded. “Wise words master Took. Be careful now that people don’t realise that you are smarter than you let on!”

Pippin raised an eyebrow at the remark but just smiled.Then he bowed a little,

Aragorn looked at Pippin. “My realm is vast and extends to the north also, Doubt not that I will one day visit the Shire. But until that day, I charge you Peregrin Took to remember that you remain a knight of Gondor and I do not release you from service. I bid you o guard the Shire in the King’s name”

Pippin looked up and straight into the King’s eyes and smiled. “I won’t let you down Strider.”

“I know Pippin.” Aragorn replied.

Aragorn left to speak with others, then and as he did so Smeagol walked up to the now quiet Pippin.”

“You talked about a Stone. Was it a bad thing, Pippin?” The question felt strange to Smeagol even as he asked it his brow creasing as he tried to work out why. The answer came to him at the same time Pippin’s did. It was the first time he’d used the hobbit’s first name in that way.

Pippin just stood there, gazing out over the hills and valley as he responded. “The Stone wasn’t good and it wasn’t evil, but Denethor had been deceived. The armies were so vast even without trickery

Smeagol gazed straight into Pippin’s eyes and said simply. “I know, I saw them.But f we speak of dark memories they will capture us again.”

Pippin shook his head vigorously. “I bow to a master’s wisdom.why don’t we go and find out what Sam has cooked for us?”

 

*

So they parted at sunset and they saw the King of the West sitting upon his horse. Smeagol wondered at this as he thought back about how he would once have have fled in terror atsch a sight.with his knights about him. A green fire rose from near the King’s hand from the stone in his possession and then he was gone. 

 

Smeagol chewed a piece of straw that from the many pieces he had found in Isengard, for he found it helped him centre his thoughts. 

“Isengard magnifies the heart Smeagol and when Saruman was wise and kind, it made him the very wisest of us all.” Galadriel’s eyes held Smeagol’s as he looked at her, the elven queen’s smile gentle and knowing,then the smile faded, “But the day came that his temptation was too great and his wisdom was eclipsed by his desire. He sought to duel the Dark Lord and and thus did he begin the long spiral into darkness.”

“I understand Lady, I am going the other way now, to the light and Isengard’s magic has helped.”

“I believe Frodo’s compassion and mercy is, in many ways greater, for it comes not from any magic such as Isengard or Lothlorien or indeed Gandalf ot the rings but from within.”

Smeagol looked at Frodo and watched him laugh and joke with Sam and he finally understood Sam Gamgee.

 

*


	7. Legacies of Isengard: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is over, but echoes of evil continue.

Legacies of Isengard: Part two

 

Leaving the valley of the Isen behind, the dwindling company passed over the border and into Dunland, where the Dunlendings fled due to their fear of Elvish folk though few ever came to their country.

Galadriel smiled sadly. for she wished that the peoples of this region would realise that they had nothing to fear from the elven folk but it was not to be. The Time of Men was coming and the Elves would pass into the shroud of history.

The lack of settlements was not a problem for the travellers, for though supplies had diminished throughout the journey, each time they had been restocked and repairs and replacements had been easily obtained. First at Rohan at the behest of Eomer and then again at Isengard from the deserted stores of Saruman, that had also brimmed with armour, weapons and tools and provisions.

The food for Saruman’s Uruk-Hai had been taken and destroyed by the Ents when they had found, it but the food of men, they had preserved at the command of Treebeard and not even the appetite of five hobbits could make a dent in the food stores enough to be considered a problem. Even if this had been a problem Smeagol had a way of catching more than enough fish to overcome such tribulations.

It was a week since parting from the King and Smeagol had shaved the few remaining strands of hair from his head. he was rubbing his now smooth scalp and admiring his new more handsome look in a mirror. next to him lay a drawing Frodo had done of them both.

“Mister Frodo?”

“What is it Smeagol?”

“Why draw the horrible times?”

Frodo puffed on his pipe and pursed his lips. Then he put down his pipe and answered. “During the journey to Mordor. I learned many things that had been forgotten, and saw warnings that had been ignored. Warnings that had they been heed might have stopped Sauron’s rise to power of saved countless lives. 

“But the Dark Lord is gone and the ring destroyed.”

“And by writing and drawing for those who come in later years Smeagol, we warn them against similar evils or foolishness

Smeagol looked at the drawing again.

On the left of the drawing there stood the exhausted thin ring bearer and crouched atop a rock, wearing nothing but the now discarded loin cloth was Smeagol. 

Underneath it said, ‘Frodo and Gollum’ and both were looking to Mount Doom, whose only rendition was a plume of smoke that extended only to the line down the middle the paper.

“What we were is not what we are Mister Frodo.”

“Nor are we yet what we need to be.”

The familiar cry of Celeborn calling on his people to break camp and move out carried softly but easily through the air. Frodo and Smeagol gathered their thoughts and their gear and stood and stretched and moved onwards.

 

* * *

 

Grima Wormtongue scampered in the bramble looking for his supper. It had been thrown by the cantankerous white beard Saruman, not because there was anything wrong with it but because he could. Saruman had fallen far from grace and his abuse of the pitiful wretch known as Wormtongue had fallen. with him. Saruman chuckled as his underling whimpered, his hunger driving him to search desperately.

The fallen mage drew out a fading map and smiled knowingly. His malice was far from done and if he could travel quickly enough he mused, he may still be able to rebuild some of his former power. He was no fool though, he knew full well that never again would he rule from lofty heights such as Isengard but he still had other skills and his silken tongue remained honeyed.

He thought to himself pondering options and decided that the Shire was his safest Bolthole. Well, I may not have gotten those accursed Halflings to Isengard but I can assuredly get myself to the shire. Fortunate for me it is that the likes of Sandyman and the Sackville-Baggins are such fools.

“Grima! Come along!”

Grima Wormtongue whimpered as his master's voice cracked like a whip. He crammed his face full of the remains of what little provision he could find and scurried to Saruman's side, to receive a swift kick the side. He snarled  
his frustration and hate but the will of Saruman kept Wormtongue in check and he soon cowered once more.

Saruman smiled at Wormtongue and it held warmth and forgiveness, so the disgraced steward relaxed a little. That was when Saruman struck him in the side of the head with his staff.

“What delight you give me you fool. No matter what I do or say, you are within my power and will always be for my voice and my words hold you very essence in thrall. Even were you capable of throwing off your burden, where would you go? Rohan will not suffer a traitor like you to live if they see you again. The elf lands would send you back. Gondor's will would be as Rohan's and the children of Durin would take payment in your lifelong servitude of mining for them.”

Saruman watched his words hit home like arrows. Grima had no refuge and he had brought this all on himself without even the corruption of the ring. This was no small part of why saruman despised his servant. Others that had fallen had desired the ring. Men such as Boromir and Isildur. He himself had sought it. Grima though had allowed perverse desires for his King's kinswoman to lead him to base treachery.

No, thought Saruman, the ring had never needed to do anything with Grima Wormtongue. He did it all by himself.

*

 

“Well Saruman, where are you going? 

Saruman halted as he heard the familiar voice, oh so full of its own righteousness and always poking his nose into other’s business. “What is that to you, will you still order my comings and going, and are you not content with my ruin?”

Gandalf heaved a heavy sigh even as he answered, “You know the answers, no and no. But in any case the time of my labours now draws to its end. The King has taken on the burden,If you had waited at Orthanc, you would have seen him, and he would have shown you wisdom and Mercy.”

“Then all the more reason to have left sooner,’ said Saruman, ‘for I desire neither of him. Indeed if you wish for an answer to your first question, I am seeking a way out of his realm.”

“Then once more you are going the wrong way and I see no hope for your journey but will you scorn our help? For we offer it to you.”

“To me?” said Saruman, “Nay, do not smile at me! I prefer your frowns. And as for the lady here, I do not trust her, for she has always hated me and schemed for your part. I do not doubt that she has brought you this way to have the pleasure of gloating over my poverty. Had I been warned of your pursuit, I would have denied you the pleasure.”

Saruman,’ said Galadriel, ‘we have other errands and other cares that seem to us more urgent than hunting for you. Say rather that you are overtaken by good fortune for now you have a last chance.”

“If it is truly the last,I am glad.’ said Saruman, for I shall be spared the trouble of refusing it again. All my hopes are ruined, but I would not share yours. If you have any.

Saruman’s eyes kindled for a moment “Go!” he said. “I did not spend long study on these matters for naught. You have doomed yourselves and you know it. And it will afford me some comfort as I wander to think that you pulled down your own house when you destroyed mine. And now what ship will bear you back across so wide a sea? It will be a grey ship and full of ghosts! He gave a mocking laugh with a voice ruined and hideous and those that heard the merest fading echo of the hope it had once possessed. 

Saruman whacked the other beggar with g=his staff for the umpteenth time that day snarling as he did so. “Get up you idiot! If these fine folk are going our way, we shall take another. Get on, or I’ll give you no crust for your supper!

Grima Wormtongue turned and slouched past whimpering; “Poor old Grima! Poor old Grima!Always beaten and cursed. How I hate him! I wish I could leave him!”

“Then leave him!” said Gandalf.

But Wormtongue only shot a glance of his bleary eyes full of terror at Gandalf and he scurried past behind Saruman. As the wretched pair passed by the company they came to the four shire Hobbits, and Saruman stopped and stared at them with open loathing but all they returned was pity. 

Smeagol sidled behind a horse and hid from the fallen wizard. He remembered evading his spies fall too well.

“So you have come to gloat too have you, my little urchins? You don’t care what a beggar lacks do you? For you have all you want, food,and fine clothes and the best weed for you pipes. Oh yes, I know! I know where it comes from. You would not give a pipeful to a beggar, would you?”

“I would if I had any,’ said Frodo. Those that knew Frodo best could see that he moved slightly differently to normal. it was obvious to them that he was blockign Saruman’s sight of Smeagol.

Extending one hand to Saruman, Frodo made his offer. “You can have what I have got left, if you will wait a moment.” Merry got down and searched the bag in his saddle. Then he handed the pouch to Saruman. “Take what there is, you are welcome to it; it comes from the flotsam of Isengard.”

“Mine, mine yes and dearly bought!” cried Saruman clutching at the pouch. “This is only a repayment in token for you took more I’ll be bound. Still, a beggar must be grateful, if a thief returns to him even a morsel of his own. Well, it will serve you right when you come home if you find things less good in the Southfarthing than you would like Long may your land be short of leaf!”

“Thank you very much!” said Merry, “In that case I will have my pouch back, which is not yours and has journeyed far with me. Wrap the weed in a rag of your own.”

“One thief deserves another.” said Saruman, and turned his back on Merry and he kicked the quivering Wormtongue and went away towards the wood.

Smeagol frowned. The fallen wizard could have returned to grave, slowly but surely. why would anyone take the great gift that was offered and spurn it? he shook his head which hurt trying to figure it out and was dimly aware of the conversation Pippin was continuing.

“Well, I like that” Pippin muttered. “Thief indeed! What our claim for waylaying, wounding, and orc dragging us through Rohan?”

“Ah! said Sam “And bought he said. How I wonder? And I didn’t like the sound of what he said about the Southfarthing. It’s time we got back lads.”

“I’m sure it is but we can’t go any quicker if we are to see Bilbo,’ said Frodo ‘whatever happens.”

 

“Yes, I think you had better do that,’ said Gandalf but alas for Saruman! I fear that nothing more can be made of him. He has withered altogether. All the same, I am not sure that Treebeard is right: I fancy he can do some mischief in a small mean way.”

*

That night Saruman awoke with start and found himself staring straight into the large round eyes of Smeagol that glinted with suppressed anger. Saruman scrambled backwards even as Girma lay in a deep sleep brought on by exhaustion and ill treatment

He hissed dangerously “Merry’s pouch. Return it. Now.” With the last word he leaned close in and the long study that Saruman had boasted of told him that Smeagol would press the issue.

Saruman held out the pouch snarling as he did so and it was whisked away defty. “Smeagol has come so far… so far to climb before the Hobbits of Frodo’s home look at him with disgust and fear. There he goes, the weird little gangrel creature-”

“Sorry, Smeagol has got to go, He has the pouch of someone worth listening to to return. Yes he does, Gollum!” The flecks of saliva landed on Saruman’s filthy robe as Smeagol played the part of an imbecile. Saruman’s mouth hung agape with the shock of Smeagols’ nerve.

The fifth hobbit to ruin Saruman’s plans headed back to the main group and skilfully stashed Merry’s pouch back in his saddlebag for him. All the time he was unaware that Sam Gamgee through long experience, both good and bad, of watching out for Smeagol and his antics.

Sam watched, his heart dropping as Smeagol opened Merry’s saddlebag but he said nothing yet. He’d learned from the ‘sneaking’ disaster. This hard own patience rewarded him for he waited long enough to see Smeagol place the pouch back where it belonged.

*

The morning sun broke and Smeagol looked towards it. The old adrenaline was still there, to get up and run but it was no longer accompanied by fear. The same same instincts still served to tell him when he was being observed and he had that feeling now. He spun around, and his eyes fell on Sam Gamgee. Pippin and Merry were with him.

Sam sat down near Smeagol and said, “Good morning old chap, been anywhere whilst we slept? I know you don’t need sleep like the rest of us.”

Smeagol grinned at Sam and doing comical impression of Frodo puffing on his pipe replied “Well, Sam Gamgee, I had something important to do.”

“Which was?” inquired Sam politely.

“Sneaking! I have to keep my skills master hobbit!” Smeagol’s shoulders quaked and then rolled on the floor laughing, banging his fists on the ground, the whole thing made better by Sam’s stoic expression.

Merry and Pippin didn’t bother resisting and were on the ground laughing soon after Smeagol. Observing from close by Frodo was chuckling too. Sam gave in to the good humour willingly and with a rich guffaw.

Not far away. lady Galadriel watched her friends, and charges and smiled. 

The next day, they passed into Eregion and a fair morning dawned, shimmering above gleaming mists and looking from their camp on a low hill the travellers saw away in the east the Sun catching three peaks that thrust up into the sky through floating clouds: Caradhras, Celebdil, and Fanuidhol. They were near to the gates of Moria

It was a few hours after they’d past this region where that the company camped for though they could have made haste, it would have hurried another parting the company was loth to make: Soon, Celeborn and Galadriel and their fold would turn eastward, and so pass by the Redhorn Gate and down the Dimrill Stair to the Silverlode and to their own country

They had journeyed thus far by the westways, for they had much to speak of with Elrond and Gandalf and here they lingered still in converse with their friends, Often long after the hobbits were wrapped in sleep they would sit together under the stars, recalling the ages that were gone and all their joys and labours in the world, or holding council, concerning the days to come. If any wanderers had chanced to pass, litle would would they have seen or heard, and it would have seemed to them only that they saw grey figures, carved in stone, memorials of forgotten things now lost in unpeopled lands. For they did not move or speak with mouth, looking from mind to mind; and only their shining eyes stirred and kindled as their thoughts went to and fro.

But at length all was said, and they parted again for a while, until it was time for the Three Rings to pass away. Quickly fading into the stones and shadows the grey-cloaked people of Lothlorien rode towards the mountains; and those who were going to Rivendell sat on the hill and watched, until there came out of the mist a flash; Frodo and Smeagol knew that that Galadriel had held aloft her ring in token of farewell.

Sam turned away and sighed: “I wish I was going back to Lorien!”

 

*

Saruman stood on the hilltop on the day that the company camped within sight of the three peaks, scanning for the company he knew and hated so much, more now than ever. Fallen from greatness though he was, he retained some of his craft and the great light that he had now spurned for ever remained known to him though this was closed to him evermore. As Gandalf, Elrond, Celeborn and Elrond sat still as stone, Saruman smiled to himself; This was his chance.

“Up! Up Grima! the fools tarry and I know this idling conversation of the white meddler of old. And we shall take advantage of it we shall. Whilst they tarry we will hurry along! We will head for the Shire and we shall make haste there!

A few unfortunate travellers heard Saruman’s malevolent chuckle as he passed them by, striding Shire wards.

 

Thus Ends Book one of the Redemption of Smeagol.


	8. There and Back to Bilbo Baggins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Smeagol meet each other once more. Bilbo makes a frenemy.

There and Back to Bilbo again.

Thus begins Book two of the Redemption of Smeagol.

 

Heavy hearted but glad for their friends, the remnant passed through the country, making good time, until At last one evening they came over the high moors, suddenly as to travellers it always seemed, to the brink of the deep valley of Rivendell and saw far below the lamps shining in Elrond's house. 

As they descended towards the house Frodo felt a tug at his cloak and looking down, saw the worried look on Smeagol’s face.

“Mister Frodo, I’ve been quite a lot but this is where Bagg-, Bilbo the hobbit is yes? And it wasn’t nice when we met…”

Elrond, master of Rivendell spoke and Smeagol nearly flinched for the power of Elrond flowed with his words and though Smeagol had heard the Elf lord speak before, this was different, for Elrond was truly master here and everyone, Gandalf included, could feel it.

“Word has been sent, master Smeagol. Bilbo is aware that you are not the same as when he knew you, though he still does not relish renewing your acquaintance.”

The words were gentle enough but Smeagol knew he had been quite clearly warned. He also Know that Bag- Bilbo, -he had to get used to using the right name- would have been asked to watch himself too.

*

 

The company waited and Elrond moved his great steed to the front of the company and rode forwards, smiling in his reserved power, stern but fair. 

All that were their to greet him at the bridge radiated joy and relief, relief that the war was over and joy at the return of Elrond.

Smeagol marvelled and was was actually taken by surprise by Merry and Pippin hoisting him under an elbow each. He tried to squirm out of their grip and with most others he would have succeeded but these two prankster hobbits were past masters themselves of squirming out of restraint and knew all the twists and all the little tells.

“No, Smeagol, you are coming with us!”

Off they went, First of all, before they had eaten or washed or even shed their cloaks, in search of Bilbo. They found him all alone in his little room. It was littered with papers and pens and pencils; but Bilbo was sitting in a chair before a small bright fire. He looked very old, but peaceful, and sleepy. 

Smeagol froze: Baggins. Right in front of him. he looked at the dozing Hobbit carefully and could just see in an indent of a ring on Bilbo Baggin’s middle finger.

Memories of the Goblin mines and the dank dismal cave that had played host to the first chance meeting of the ring bearers flooded Smeagol’s mind but he shook his head and cleared it.

Opposite him Bilbo Baggins stirred and opened his eyes and looked 

'Hullo, hullo!' he said. 'So you've come back? And tomorrow's my birthday, too. How clever of you! Do you know, I shall be one hundred and twenty-nine? And in one year more, if I am spared, I shall equal the Old Took. I should like to beat him; but we shall see.' and you’ve brought me an interesting present! Smeagol!”

“Huh!?” said Smeagol nonplussed. This was not the reception form Bilbo Baggins he had he had anticipated. 

“Yes we were about to have a roast dinner!”

“What of?” Smeagol was still of balance mentally.

“Well fair is fair old chap, you did try to eat me.”

“You stole the only thing that mattered to me.” 

Frodo stepped into view from his well chosen hiding place. “And I threw it into a fiery mountain. So shush about that the pair of you.”

“Well said young-”

“You can shush too, ‘What have I got in my pockets is not a valid riddle uncle. you’re disqualified.”

“But he took it on...”

“Really uncle, A fellow all on his own in a cave can’t be expected to recall all the rules now can he? That’s bad form. and can you imagine the fun the Sackville Bagginses would have if they ever found out about it?”

“Nyeh, I knew you’d cheated, Baggins!”

“You were going to eat me! Without condiments even!

Elsewhere in the great Elven dwelling, Elrond’s lips curled ever so slightly upwards. Hobbits knew their priorities well, especially the culinary ones.

Frodo Baggins tapped his foot sternly and looked at his charge. “Smeagol, be polite.” His tone was firm but polite as he continued. “Yes, it’s true my uncle cheated. But what can he do about it? It’s not as if he can return the ring to you is it?”

“Err…” said Smeagol.  
“Err…” said Bilbo.

“Well then, Now we have that agreement, let’s just apologise to each other shall we?”

“Sorry Frodo.” But it wasn’t Bilbo or Smeagol saying it. Frodo made a throttling gesture as he said, “Not you, Pippin.”

“Pippin doesn’t have to apologise for doing something?” Merry chirped in feigning surprise. 

Frodo knew better, and was about to answer when Pippin spoke again.

“Don’t get used to it old chum, I’m sure I’ll do something stupid soon enough.”

“Will you two knock if off and leave it to the only Hobbit with any common sense to do the speaking?”

“Okay, sounds like my cue to take over.” Sam Gamgee said stepped forwards, also grinning.

“I didn’t mean you either.”

“Are you calling me stupid, Mister Frodo?”

“Merry and Pippin, You can put Smeagol down now... Sam, you have a lot of wisdom, such as, you know when to not carry on talking.”

Sam displayed his wisdom: Silently he turned to Merry and Pippin.

“As for you two idiots…” Frodo began.

Smeagol stood, nursing his arms and looked straight at Bilbo Baggins. “I’ve been travelling with them for a few months now, and I can feel myself going crazy all over again.”

Bilbo nodded sagely. “Imagine being related to them…”

Smeagol gave Bilbo a dirty look, but looked at the four travelling Hobbits, then looked back at Bilbo and poked his tongue out.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow but having had do deal with the far ruder Sackville Bagginses, wasn’t too perturbed. He said as much: “This is nothing compared to dealing with cousin Lobelia.”

The room went quiet as Bilbo mentioned his other less well regarded cousins. Smeagol looked around and noticed the distaste on the four faces. He drummed his fingers on the table and decided that Galadriel and Frodo would most assuredly like him to make peace with Bilbo.

He frowned trying to think of the right thing to say, then gave up.”Sorry I tried to murder you, steal all your belongings and eat your dead body.”

“Sorry I ever met you.” Bilbo responded. “But also sorry I cheated and actually did steal your possessions.”

Smeagol had a sly thought then and added, “I think we can forget about that since it worked out for the best…”

“It’s the thought that counts.” replied Bilbo. Then he laughed and fell asleep.

Smeagol thought that after all that travel, Bilbo had suggested a good idea and let himself fall asleep.

*

“My lord Elrond’ said Gandalf, ‘Smeagol has come along way. But being around Bilbo? ot taxes him. The only memories he has of him are dark ones.”

“Bilbo’s memories of Smeagol are of no better taste. The sooner they part company, the healthier it will be for both of them.”

“Frodo has chosen to stay for his uncle’s birthday and I would not gainsay that. And from here, they continue to bree and from there to the Shire.”

“Gandalf, the house has its own ways of healing wounds if it will. Even now Smeagol dreams of Bilbo’s adventures and Bilbo dreams of Smeagol’s journey from Gonder onwards.

*

Smeagol woke and rubbed his eyes hard. Sitting across from hims, giving him a hard look was Bilbo Baggins, the most awake that Smeagol had seen him since they’d arrived.

“Well,’ said Bilbo, ‘that was a tad unpleasant. I would ask what you dreamed of but i know the lady Galadriel’s touch so I already know. Now you don’t much like me and I have little use for you but the lady has seen fit to grant you a third chance.”  
“Second.”

“No. I gave you your second chance, back in the mountain where we first met but the power of darkness had too strong a hold on you. The fair lady was stronger enough to drive it away and grant you enough time to fight it off yourself.”

“Galadriel the wise, the fair, the wonderful-”

“I’m quite a ware of that thank you,” said Bilbo knowing that if he didn’t cut Smeagol off fast, he’d have to listen to lots of gushing praise about the Ef queen and as much as he agreed, well, he already knew all that. “I’m also quite aware of how far you’ve fallen before But I’m not as wise of a kind as Galadriel and I trust her as much as I distrust you. so let me make it very clear that if you hurt my nephew in any way shape or form, This one hundred and and twenty Nine year old Hobbit will reverse his decision in the Misty Mountains and come and find you.”

“And then?” Smeagol asked looking with a newfound respect for the wizened old halfling in front of him, noting the newfound fire. He knew a fire that ht would burn out before the end of day and that Bag- Bilbo would be once more akin to Frodo.

“And then said Bilbo with the fire still there for now. “You find out what I can do when pushed beyond patience and I have an extra seventy five years compared to Frodo.”

Smeagol considered that, considered how scary Frodo had become towards the end and nodded slowly. 

“Good.” said Bilbo.

“And if anyone tries to hurt Frodo, they get to find out how much scarier than Hobbits, Smeagol is.”

“They had better but I think I believe you. There is something I owe you though.”

“What is it, fat old Hobbit?”

“A proper riddle game you short smelly rude excuse for a halfling.”

“What have I got in my pockets?” asked Smeagol.

Bilbo had no idea.

 

* * *

 

Saruman smiled malevolently, he had left Bree and had hurried on, a battered bruised and thoroughly broken Wormtongue in tow.what little power he had was being used to scry for the Hobbits. Being unable to find them he was at first perturbed, but then he remembered the power of Elrond.

'The fools tarry at Rivendell even now,' he thought, 'whereas I shall be in the Shire by noon tomorrow. Then I shall discuss changes with a certain client of mine and the changes to be made.'

 

* * *

The Hobbits were determined to stay for at least Bilbo’s journey though had they known where Saruman was, they would have set out at the cessation of the celebration. As it was four Hobbits found themselves assisting in the grand Elven kitchens.

The fifth Halfling found himself swimming in a pool that had no fish. Unsure of where he fit into all this. As much as he and Bilbo seemed to have forged a truce, and he and Frodo were friends and allies, attending Bilbo’s party seemed wrong to Smeagol.

“Greetings Smeagol.” Smeagol nearly jumped, he had no warning that anyone was approaching. Looking round he saw Bilbo Baggins sitting on a rock cross legged, smoking pipeweed. 

“You surprised me!”

“And who exactly, did you think taught Frodo and you know how good he is at going unseen. Pipeweed, Goll- drat,sorry, I meant Smeagol.”

“I forgive Bag- drat, I mean, Bilbo and yes, Pipeweed would be good.”

Bilbo stretched his hand out offering the pouch and slowly and unsurely Smeagol took it.

A short distance away and undetectable by Hobbits Elrond turned, smiling slightly said to Gandalf. “Once again you set things up well Mithrandir,”

“Hmm?” I have set nothing up this day. Of what do you speak?”

Elrond stopped smiling and looked slightly confused. “Bilbo speaking to Smeagol alone and sharing pipeweed.”

Gandalf stopped still and held his pipe carefully. After a second he set it down and let his mind wander. His sight searched through the buildings until it came to rest gently upon the scene of Bilbo and Smeagol. Gandalf listened without ears to what they discussed. after minute he turned back to Elrond who simply waited.

“Well!” said the old wizard. “Even after a century Hobbits continue to amaze me. I truly thought I had seen it all with the four that set out from here!”

“I am not surprised at being surprised by Hobbits anymore but if you would elaborate for me.”

“Of course, Bilbo is asking Smeagol why it looks like he isn’t coming to the party and Smeagol is being embarrassed. which is perfectly understandable considering their history.”

“Ah, yes, I was expecting this.”

“You were?” 

Elrond indulged himself in a short uncharacteristic chuckle and said “I have had Bilbo here as guest for the best part of century my friend, I know him well and he would never leave out anyone he considers a Hobbit connected to his own family, from one of his parties. And Bilbo Baggins has wisdom, as you and Thorin Oakenshield both found out.”

“Of course.”

 

* * *

“Included?” said Smeagol to Bilbo.

“Definitely. can’t leave out someone is pretty much a family member miss a party.”

“You don’t even like me.”

“No, I don’t. Not any more than you like me but I haven’t hated you in very long time. Your turn.”

“I don’t like you either but I can stand the sight of you.” said Smeagol slowly realising that as much as this old Hobbit irritated him to Dale and back, he was beginning to enjoy his company.  
Uncertain of this new understanding on either side, Bilbo Baggins they headed to get ready for party. Bilbo jumped once though, when Smeagol went *Gol-lum* at him just for the reaction...


	9. Time to catch up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbits are restless, Elrond is home to stay and Smeagol hears something that makes him want to throttle Bilbo, albeit not really.

Time to catch up.

The birthday celebration itself was high spirited for elves. Elrond had gone to the trouble of asking the Shire dwellers to arrange and sing their own favoured songs.

Frodo had performed ‘The Road goes ever on’, much to his uncle’s delight. Pippin sang the ‘Ballad of Boromir’ as taught to him by Faramir. Then Sam’s turn came and he sang of Luthien and Tinuviel. Merry, deciding that the others had been a little on the serious side, jigged to the Hey diddle diddle, along with performing as many physical representations as he could. 

Smeagol and Bilbo gave each other a look and they smiled slightly. 

“I’m next.” Bilbo said. “Riddle time! when is a branch, not a branch? Let’s See Smeagol get that one!”

Smeagol frowned, this one was one he’d never heard before.. but he knew that after the other night’s riddle test, Bilbo wouldn’t use one he couldn’t get. But he was allowed to make them very very hard. It had something to do with Bilbo’s own  
journey, with the Dwarfs led by…

Smeagol clapped his hand together as he realised “When it’s a shield, An Oaken shield!”

Bilbo sighed theatrically. “Okay, I suppose it’s your turn...”

Smeagol tapped his finger against one of his ten (wait, ten?), teeth. Then he asked.”What do Gandalf the White and Elrond’s kitchen have in common? 

“Bilbo, being on first name terms with the chef’s knew this one instantly. “A Mighty staff!”

“Drats, back to you then Shorty.”

“Thanks, smelly.

“Smeagol.” 

“Meh, Close enough.” Bilbo smirked as Smeagol realised he’d just fallen for it. The he asked, “Why is the representative of the king like man who has been born again?”

Smeagol frowned. he didn’t really know that many kings other than Aragorn and Faramir. Denethor, of whom he’d only heard didn’t count because…

ooohhh... sneaky Hobbit.. thought Smeagol. he pouted and shook a finger at Bilbo in mock anger, “It’s because they’re both Regents isn’t it?”

“Darn it. Okay.. your turn again.”

In his corner watching quietly, Gandalf smiled under his beard. Some Elves seemed wary as the two strange guests bantered and bickered. But they’d had Hobbits here before and they remembered Merry and Pippin.

Smeagol thought hard. he wanted his next one to be as hard as Bilbo’s well, harder since he wanted to win this. he thought back to what he knew best, mountains, caves and legends and scary things lurking in the darkness that wanted to eat the unwary.

“Ah, what one word means something that skitters without light and wants to eat you and alos means things got Bigger?”

Bilbo remembered how he and Smeagol had met, and was mildly impressed that the Misty mountain undersider was coming up with such difficult riddles. He added some more cake to the pile that just gr-.  
.  
“Grue! or ‘grew’. But the word sounds the same however you spell it.” Bilbo gave Smeagol an impish grin as he answered, knowing full well he was on target.

“Hey, my turn!” said Pippin suddenly having an idea and Frodo started drinking and scrutinised his cousin. “Why is a person who doesn’t like trousers like someone who doesn’t like even scoring riddle games?” 

“Because they don’t like drawers master Peregrin.” All faces turned at the voice, and all chatter ceased. A faint smile across his lips, Elrond continued. “I am many thousands of years old. I have been known to indulge in riddle games.”

“Losing one to your not then wife helped inspire you to do better too I believe.” Added Gandalf.

Exasperated at the unwanted self important addition, Elrond raised an eyebrow. “Thank you Gandalf the White, Gandalf the Meddler, Gandalf, Stormcrow, Gandalf Tattletale, Gandalf the... friend.”

Gandalf tapped his pipe and blinked, “I actually thought you were genuinely irritated then.”

“ And as it was my intent then to fool you, I too have enjoyed this party. Now, i believe there are two riddles left.”

Bilbo harrumphed to get people’s attention. “As it is getting on and the food and the cake are here, I call this an actual draw. So, let us all eat drink and be happy.”

“Will you stop talking with food mr Bilbo?”

“Yes mr Smeagol i will…”

“Then Smeagol will be happy.”

 

* * *

After the celebration of Bilbo's birthday the four, or as they were now starting to think of themselves, five, hobbits stayed in Rivendell for some days, and they sat much with Bilbo, who spent most of his time now in his room, except at meals. Then again, none of the halflings missed a meal.

 

For the food, even Bilbo turned up early, even as ancient as he was. This surprised Smeagol the first time it happened. But it amused him greatly every other time. Sitting round the fire, they told him in turn all that they could remember of their journeys and adventures.

When Frodo told him of the decision to break away from the rest of the fellowship, Merry and Pippin bowed their heads, recalling Boromir’s courage and how he saved them from what had probably been certain death.

“But Gandalf told us the Uruk-Hai had been given orders to take you alive?” Sam Queried.

Merry nodded, “Aye, but the ones coming for us were in frenzy. it looked bad. it kept looking bad until the Rohirrim found the Uruk-Hai and made short work of them.

“And then it was on to meet Treebeard.”

Bilbo started scribbling again and Pippin told of his and Merry’s meeting and eventual reunion with Gimli, Legolas and Aragorn. They spoke of the Ents' siege of Isengard and the astonishment of Isengard at the Entish ferocity.

Bilbo laughed once. “They’re ancient trees me laddo, and if you want to know how tough that makes them, ask the old gaffer about how much hard work gardening is against dug in roots!”

Frodo having thought long and deep on the subject asked Smeagol to walk around the Gardens of Rivendell with Sam, taking in the names of plants. 

“Plants?” Smeagol queried.

“Yes, Plants. The gaffer is very old in his own way and he will be needing Sam to take over. When that happens, Sam will need his own assistant. Don’t you agree Sam?”

“Aye I do.”

It was a few hours later when Merry came to fetch Sam back for supper that it became clear.

“Okay, Sam, Frodo’s finished telling Bilbo all about the trip to the Mountain and back when Smeagol was still Gollum, so you can both come back now.

Smeagol and Sam stopped, then looked at each other and sam growled. “Oh that sneaky sneaky….”

“Baggins?” supplied Smeagol, slightly irked at having being tricked, though grateful he hadn’t had to relive it all again.

Sam was inclined to side with Smeagol on this one and said so. “I’ll let you have that one.”

Merry blinked and then realising what had happened decide to depart. “Right then I’ll let Frodo know you’re on your way back. The only bits missing from the story are Eowyn and me against… against… the dark captain. and Pippin at Denethor's last moments.”

“That’s not all that’s left you know. There’s all the good stuff soon, all the light and the elves and Aragorn.”

“And beating Elves at fishing.” Neither Shire dweller could think what to add to that so they headed back and after Sam finished telling about Shelob (with an embarrassed Smeagol close by) Sam told Bilbo about the last push and How vital Smeagol had been in it.

“The last thing I said to mister Frodo before I fell unconscious was ‘the Eagles are coming.”

Bilbo chuckled and with that last bit fell asleep.

 

* * *

With that tale mostly told, Bilbo was unable to muster much more enthusiasm and in fact the only part that seemed really to rouse him and hold his attention was the account of the crowning and marriage of Aragorn.

“'I was invited to the wedding of course,' he said. 'And I have waited for it long enough. But somehow, when it came to it, I found I had so much to do here; and packing is such a bother.”

“I understand uncle, believe me, I do. I’ve been on the road a long time now , one way or another and as much as I want to get home to the Shire, I keep putting off packing since it’s such a chore.”

Bilbo chuckled. “You’re my rightful heir sure enough.”

*

 

A few days later and close to a fortnight after their arrival Frodo looked out of his window and saw that there had been a frost in the night, and the cobwebs were like white nets. 

Sam stood close by and though the weather was calm and fair, after one of the most lovely summers that people could remember; but October was here. and they knew they must depart.

Sam turned to his friend and master and voiced it.

“Well, Mr. Frodo, we've been far and seen a deal, and yet I don't think we've found a better place than this. There's something of everything here, if you understand me: the Shire and the Golden Wood and Gondor and kings' houses and inns and meadows and mountains all mixed. And yet, somehow, I feel we ought to be going soon. I'm worried about my gaffer, to tell you the truth.”

Merry and Pippin were backing down below and from his window Frodo could see that his cousins were packing in earnest, and Smeagol was assisting.

“I wish I could tell what they were saying Mister Frodo.” Said Sam.

Frodo responded by patting Sam on the head and opening the window quietly. Sam’s glower was worth the silliness Frodo thought.

 

*

“Mr Merry? why are we moving so many things now.”

“I don’t actually know Smeagol but something tells me to get a move on home and when a Hobbit gets that feeling, It’s time to get a shift on.”

Pippin nodded curtly, uncharacteristically quiet. 

*

 

Frodo left his room and went to speak with Elrond and the wise it was agreed that they should leave the next morning. 

The five halflings went to say goodbye to Gandalf too but they had a surprise  
To their delight Gandalf said: “I think I shall come with you too. At least as far as Bree, I want to see Barliman Butterbur again.”

Smeagol smiled. he hadn’t wanted to leave all the great magicians all at once. But he had gotten ready to leave the last mage. Something about him made him feel better. Neither he nor Gandalf knew it but Galadriel quietly and in her great wisdom had placed her blessings on Gandalf thought tt was slowly fading as she knew she must let it.

In the evening the six remaining companions went to say goodbye to Bilbo. 'Well, if you must go, you must,' he said. 'I am sorry. I shall miss all five of you-”

“Six. it seems that old Mister Baggins can’t count.”

“Oh, I can count I was just hoping I could ignore you again. Oh well…”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“Oh, Smeagol, you know you’ve become like family to us now.” said Merry.

“Yes, like a cousin.”  
“What are your cousins called again Mister Bilbo?” asked Sam.

“Sackville Baggins.” answered Bilbo. “Nonetheless fellows, it was nice to have you around the place.but I am getting very sleepy.”

Smeagol was about to add something but Frodo laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and very slightly shook his head.

“Here you go Frodo, have my sword and Mithril coat.” And he added three books of lore, with his own sigil on them. And to you sam I give the last of the old Smaug vintage. Which may come in useful if you end up getting married.”

Sam blushed an Bilbo nearly missed it but Merry and Pippin were far too obvious in their teasing.

“Ah, You two have gone far and wide and grown But don’t you be forgetting what little Hobbit sense you had. it’s time to think with your shire heads now, Not castles and horse lords though that knowledge will help you out I’m sure!”

He paused, tapping this chin, and then said, if you two keep growing you’re going to find clothes shopping expensive.”

“But if you want to beat the Old Took,' said Pippin, 'I don't see why we shouldn't try and beat the Bullroarer.”

Bilbo laughed, and he produced out of a pocket two beautiful pipes with pearl mouth-pieces and bound with fine-wrought silver. “Think of me when you smoke them. The Elves made them for me, but I’ve now stopped smoking.”

 

And then suddenly he nodded and went to sleep for a little; and when he woke up again he said, “Now where were we? Yes, of course, giving presents. Which reminds me, what's become of my ring, Frodo, that you took away?”

Smeagol blinked when he heard this. Sticking a finger in one ear he wiggled it about, making it pop.

“I have lost it, Bilbo dear,' said Frodo. 'I got rid of it, you know.”

Smeagol poked his other finger in his other ear and repeated the process. 

“What a pity!' said Bilbo. 'I should have liked to see it again. But no, how silly of me! That's what you went for, wasn't it: To get rid of it?”

Smeagol gave up and left the room.

 

* * *

Frodo Baggins, suspecting what Smeagol had been thinking sat cross legged, listening to Bilbo talk at length, about not being too weary for Aragorn’s wedding, asking Sam about Oliphaunts.

After a good while he sang ‘The Road goes ever one’, said ‘Maybe I should have taken the long route home to see more.. But, no, the auction would have been over and that would have been more trouble for me…”

Bilbo’s head drooped and he drifted into a deep sleep.

“He’s been in this world a long time for a Hobbit Mr Frodo. I think he will stay around just long enough to beat the Old Took though.”

Sam shuffled through Bilbo’s notes and shook his head. “He hasn’t done much writing in many years. It isn't looking like he will ever tell our story now Frodo.”

The next day Gandalf and the Hobbits took leave of Bilbo in his room, for it was cold out of doors; and then they said farewell to Elrond and all his household. As Frodo stood upon the threshold, Elrond wished him a fair journey, and blessed him, and he said: 'I think, Frodo, that maybe you will not need to come back, unless you come very soon. For about this time of the year, when the leaves are gold before they fall, look for Bilbo in the woods of the Shire. I shall be with him.' These words no one else heard, and Frodo kept them to himself.

Then he turned to to Smeagol who was picking at his teeth, exploring his new ones. He was running his fingers over his bottom gums when Elrond appeared. He stood up straight pulling his finger away making a popping sound.

Elrond’s thoughts were amused. Here is Smeagol trying to be so regal and trying very hard. It’s almost as though Oakenshield and his clan were back here. But Smeagol could not know that.”

“Relax Smeagol of the Shire, you need not be so tense around me. I studied you, and in the end I count you amongst my allies.

“How about friend?” asked Sam.

“Not yet, master Samwise. It takes some effort to be my friend.”

“That I can believe!” Pippin said jovially.

Elrond continued. “The friendship you found will bind you through a last storm and then there will small echoes but after that your fate is clouded from my fate.” 

Frodo said. “We leave after breakfast tomorrow. Time to go home.”


	10. Five Hobbits for the Shire.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The five Hobbits head for the Shire with Gandalf but the time is coming when they themselves must lead and guide. Smeagol must hold fast to his path without the help of the great beings he has met, But he has four friends he can emulate who believe in him now.

At last the Hobbits had their faces turned towards home. They were eager now to see the Shire again, but when they reached the Ford of Bruinen Frodo halted.t They rode only slowly, for Frodo was ill at ease. When they came to the Ford of Bruinen, he had halted, and swayed in his saddle All that day he was silent. It was the sixth of October.

“Are you in pain, Frodo?' said Gandalf quietly as he rode by Frodo's side. 'Well, yes I am,' said Frodo. 'It is my shoulder. The wound aches, and the memory of darkness is heavy on me. It was a year ago today.' 

“Alas! there are some wounds that cannot be wholly cured,' said Gandalf. 

“I fear it may be so with mine,' said Frodo. 'There is no real going back. Though I may come to the Shire, it will not seem the same; for I shall not be the same. I am wounded with knife, sting, and tooth, and a long burden. Where shall I find rest?”

At the word ‘tooth’ Smeagol looked down at his shadow. he shook his head. That was no longer him. Gollum was gone, never to return. Merry closed up to him.

“Bad memories and good ones for all of us. This where Elrond raised the waters to cripple the Nazgul and save Frodo from the knife wound.

“Is that why I can feel the ring?” asked Smeagol. “Almost like it is on my finger?” 

Merry bowed his head. “Probably. It will pass.”

Smeagol held himself tight as they moved on. “I have to be strong.”

*

 

 

By the end of the next day the pain and unease had passed, for both Frodo and Smeagol and he and Frodo was merry again, as merry as if they did not remember the blackness of the day before. 

Forgetting their misgivings as they rode through fair woodlands, they lingered awhile in the red and yellow leaves, in the autumn sun. Frodo felt his spirits return as he strode through piles of leaves. 

“That looks nice mister Frodo.”

“Oh, it is. Look at Merry and Pippin.” The cousins were wrestling on occasion and when not dropping leaves down the other’s back. They also took turns hiding under drift piles and jumping up and surprising each other or grabbing a leg and pulling the other off balance.

Frodo gave a look. “Since Sam is busy coming plant notes with Gandalf, why don’t you show them how it’s done?” Smeagol grinned.

*

“This looks like a good spot Merry. Ready?”

“Aye, whenever you- whelp!” Merry pitched forwards as Smeagol surfaced and grabbing his ankle, pulled quickly. Pippin laughed uproariously and Smeagol nodded like a puppet being worked on a string. Pippin laughed all the way up to Smeagol also shoving him into leaves.

“Well done Smeagol. That showed them don’t you think?”

“Yes,yes indeed. Silly Hobbits. I’m better than them at this.”

Frodo smiled. “of course, but look at those leaves, the different coloured ones.”

Smeagol frowned. “But they’s all the same.”

“No, they aren’t look closer. That one is brown and that one is a different colour but looks brown from higher up.”

Smeagol gave Frodo a sceptical look but bent closer. It still didn’t look any different and he couldn’t understand why Merry and Pippin were sniggering: Not until Frodo hooked one foot under his ankle and pulled away. This time it was Smeagol that end up covered in leaves. 

“Sneaky Frodo!”

“Yes, I am.”

Later that day whilst eating, Frodo got an extra portion of fish: From a net, tipped uptide down, by Smeagol, Merry and Pippin, directly on his head. Frodo was suspicious that Gandalf had helped with the fishing catch. 

“Sam, do you think Gandalf helped out?”

“It’d take a wizard to know another wizard mister Frodo. So I’ll have to ask Gandalf… Gandalf did you help with this prank?”

“A wizard’s business is own Samwise Gamgee!”

“You know Mister Frodo’, said Sam, ‘subtle are the ways of wizards and sometimes they’re just plain fishy.”  
“Thanks for that Sam.”

 

* * *

The evening of the next day saw them riding under the shadow of Weathertop and to Frodo and Smeagol, both of whom had felt the power of Mordor, it was though the growing shadows were stretching out to grasp at them. 

“Make haste, I cannot bare the memoires! make haste and he rode through its shadow with head bowed and cloak drawn close about him.

That night the weather changed, and a wind came from the West laden with rain, and it blew loud and chill, and the yellow leaves whirled like birds in the air. 

Smeagol was grateful for it as it hide the sinister tower from sight as they travelled on and Frodo calmed down. Nonetheless the Sam, Merry, and Pippin kept guard in a triangle whilst Gandalf tended Frodo’s dreams.

In the wilderness brigands that had seen the company from afar were discussing robbing and murdering the Hobbits and were closing in on them. Ten men, tall, well built and skilled in their malpractice. They too made camp and set a watch. Just one man because of their confidence.

A stifled scream awoke them in the deep dark mornings hour.

“Tomas? Tomas! Answer me.” The brigand turned over the still form of the night watch. He saw the teeth marks and the crushed throat and turned to shout warning of his own: He never made it for there was a flash of teeth and gleaming eyes. 

With two Brigands dead, Smeagol decided his grim work was enough and he retreated knowing he would not survive encountering the eight survivors.

Sam saw him returning, and not long after Smeagol had spotted him. 

“Good to see Hobbitses haven’t lost their edge, after being in so many warm beds.” 

“Aye, said Sam, we still have that wild edge. And it comes back when we’re threatened. Just like it must have done with you eh?”

“Murderers up the road. Going to take us and slice our throats in the dark. There were ten. Now there are eight and they can’t surprise us now either.”

Sam tilted his head at Gandalf. “He could have stopped them I reckon.”

“Maybe, maybe not and he had Frodo to look after.”

There were no Brigands that night and with knowledge any had been so close they made haste the next day so it was that near the end of a wild and wet evening in the last days of October the six travellers rode up the climbing road and came to the South-gate of Bree. 

It was locked fast; and the rain blew in their faces, and in the darkening sky low clouds went hurrying by, and their hearts sank a little, for they had expected more welcome. When they had called many times, at last the Gate-keeper came out, and they saw that he carried a great cudgel. 

“And who is it that calls me out in this forsaken weather at this forsaken time eh? Quickly afore I stride a back to warmth and shelter like sensible folk would!”

Gandalf threw back his head and let his staff shine.” I hope that this face is known to you?”

“Oh, master Gandalf, you’ve returned.” he quickly unlocked the gate as he spoke more. “Old Barliman said you’d be back, and never mind those shadows on horse- but let’s speak no more of them.

“Only to say that they are no more.” 

Then the gate keeper realised that that Gandalf’s companions were hobbits, in spite of their strange gear, and he brightened and wished them welcome. “Come in!” he said, unlocking the gate. 

He looked at Smeagol once, curious.

“Can I be helping with something?” 

“I couldn’t place you as far as Hobbit kind goes.”

Smeagol puffed his chest, even in the rain as they walked briskly for shelter. “That’s okay, I can’t place you as a far as big kind goes.”

“Well, that’s fair enough, but you’re under roofs now so this where I stay and you head on so Don't be staying for news out here in the cold and the wet, in this ruffianly evening.”

“How is Harry?' Gandalf enquired curious that he had not seen the man

The Gate-keeper scowled. “Gone,' he said. 'But you'd best ask Barliman. Good evening!”

“Good evening to you!' they said, passing through completely; and then they noticed that behind the hedge at the road-side a long low hut had been built, and a number of men had come out and were staring at them over the fence. 

Gandalf tipped his hat ever so slightly.

 

When they came to Bill Ferny's house they saw that the hedge there was tattered and unkempt, and the windows were all boarded up. 

“Do you think you killed him with that apple, Sam?”' said Pippin. 

'I'm not so hopeful, Mr. Pippin,' said Sam. 'But I'd like to know what became of that poor pony. He's been on my mind many a time and the wolves howling and all.” 

The Prancing Pony looked like they had last seen it and for a moment At last they came to The Prancing Pony, and that at least looked outwardly unchanged; and there were lights behind the red curtains in the lower windows.

Frodo smiled and linked arms with Sam and Pippin, “Well, when we first came, we had a warm welcome and ale. We didn’t know what was ahead of us then.

“We do now cousin!”

“Aye, added Sam, ‘But now ego knowing we can rest because it’s all behind us.”

Merry nudged Smeagol as Pippin happily rang the bell and gave small shake of his head. “Theoden though such when he freed himself of Saruman’s curse. But Saruman’s treachery was longer reaching than he’d first thought.”

“What are you saying then, Meriadoc Brandybuck?” 

Merry smiled grimly, pleased that Smeagol was aware of the seriousness of his words. “I’m saying that it’s down to us to watch for our friends in Bree. They have the most healing yet to do.”

“But you used your sword on… the captain.”

“Pippin endured a little more than I, and Sam and Frodo, you know their ordeal well. But we will talk later. For now, enjoy the warm Bread and cold ale.”

It was Nob that answer Pippin’s ringing came to the door, and he opened it a crack and peeped through.

When he saw them standing under the lamp he gave a cry of surprise. “Mr. Butterbur! Master!' he shouted. 'They've come back!' 

“Oh have they? I'll learn them,” came Butterbur's voice, and out he came with a rush, and he had a club in his hand. But when he saw who they were he stopped short, and the black scowl on his face changed to wonder and delight. 'Nob, you woolly-pated ninny!' he cried. 'Can't you give old friends their names? You shouldn't go scaring me like that, with times as they are!”

 

Butterbur’s face shone with genuine pleasure as he took in the company’s return.  
“Well, well! And where have you come from? I never expected to see any of you folk again, and that's a fact: going off into the Wild with that Strider, and all those Black Men about. I thought no Hobbits would return but not only have you but there’s more of you than set out! How did that happen!”

Gandalf strode through the now wide open door smiling warmly and resting a hand on the innkeeper’s shoulder, “That, Barliman Butterbur is a wizard’s secret although I daresay the tale will written in the future.”

“If you say so master Gandalf. But I'm right glad to see you, and none more than yourself. The same rooms as before? They're free. Indeed most rooms are empty these days, as I'll not hide from you, for you'll find it out soon enough. 

As Barliman spilled his troubles about the state of Bree and how ruffians had travelled through from near Rohan heading for the Shire, as he put it. he led them to a quiet parlour where he at down and in quiet voice starting talking in more detail.

“Would you mind passing some pipeweed?”  
“I wish you’d asked for something else.”

'Well, if you'd called for anything else, I'd have been happier,' said Butterbur. 'That's just a thing that we're short of, seeing how we've only got what we grow ourselves, and that's not enough. There's none to be had from the Shire these days. But I'll do what I can.'

He scurried away and came back quickly with what he had to sapre.

Most of the things which they had to tell were a mere wonder and bewilderment to their host, and far beyond his vision; and they brought forth few comments other than: 'You don't say; often repeated in defiance of the evidence of Mr. Butterbur's own ears.

Smeagol though the jovial barman was nice enough but having to listen through what was effectively a third retelling was utter tedium for him. But he perked up a bit at the next part.

“No one comes nigh Bree now from Outside,' Butterbur said. 'And the inside folks, they stay at home mostly and keep their doors barred. It all comes of those newcomers and gangrels that began coming up the Greenway last year,. Some were just poor bodies running away from trouble; but we had some real bad ones full o' thievery and mischief. 

I think I might have met them… if these are really bad peoples, maybe I should have EAT them...

Butterbur continued, talking about Bill Ferny and Harry the old gate keep ahd side with the brigands and let them in and how they had fought them off .

“Some folk were killed, killed dead! If you'll believe me.' 

'I will indeed,' replied Gandalf. 'How many?'  
“Three and two,”' said Butterbur, referring to the big folk and the little. 'There was poor Mat Heathertoes, and Rowlie Appledore, and little Tom Pickthorn from over the Hill; and Willie Banks from up-away, and one of the Underhills from Staddle: all good fellows, and they're missed. 

“Is there any news of Harry and Bill now?”

“Seems as they’ve gone for robbers and live outside, hiding in the woods beyond Archet, and out in the wilds north-away. It isn't safe on the road and nobody goes far, and folk lock up early. We have to keep watchers all round the fence and put a lot of men on the gates at nights.”

“Well, no one troubled us,' said Pippin, 'and we came along slowly, and kept little watch. We thought we'd left all trouble behind us.” 

That, Master Pippin is because Smeagol the brave was out there, chasing them away. Thought smeagol to himself happily

“Ah, that you haven't, Master, more's the pity,' said Butterbur. 'But it's no wonder they left you alone. They wouldn't go for armed folk, with swords and helmets and shields and all. Make them think twice, that would!”

And then there’s also that, admitted Smeagol to himself, a bit embarrassed he’d forgotten it.

“And I must say it put me aback a bit when I saw you.” Butterbur added.

Then the hobbits suddenly realized that people had looked at them with amazement not out of surprise at their return, so much as in wonder at their gear. 

Silly Hobbits, thought Smeagol, They should have looked more carefully at their reflections.

Gandalf patted Barliman gently and smiled, “Be of good cheer, the Rangers are back now and the King himself has despatched a company this way to protect Bree.”

Barliman was confused. “Why would the King have anything to do with Bree?”

Gandalf threw back his head. “Because he knows it and loves it and he drank enough ale here!”

“I’ve never met the King. mr Gandalf sir.”

“Yes you have,’ Sam corrected. ‘and you told us not to go off with him since Rangers couldn’t be trusted.” 

“Ohh, no... he’ll be having word with me when he comes this way!”

“Yes, it’ll be a mug of ale for me, mr kingy,’ said an exasperated Smeagol, ‘and be quick about it. Just because I like you, it doesn’t mean I want to sit here all night talking!”

The room went quiet. Gandalf stared at Smeagol and he shrank back from the wizard’s stern gaze. “Smeagol, you are free to leave if you wish bed and rest. Please give some rest to your manners too, they are obviously exhausted and need it.”

“Okay.” Once in the nice warm room, smeagol curled up at the bottom of the other four would sleep in and draped a blanket around himself and began drifting off.

ALes than half an hour later, Frodo, Merry and Pippin came up stair an Smeagol roused some. Merry and Pippin gave him envious looks. he stuck out his tongue at them. He turned to where he expected sam to enter next but when Merry closed the door, he was puzzled.

“Sam is sleeping in the stable tonight,’ said Pippin guessing the source of Smeagol’s confusion.

“Why?”

“Bill, his horse found its way back here all by itself. Butterbur has been looking after it the entire time and sam is sleeping close by and is pretty happy there.”

In that case smeagol will sorry to mr Butterbur tomorrow and will tell Gandalf off for being a waffly wizard instead.

 

* * *

Smeagol stretched as he woke and went downstairs where he talked to Mr Butterbur. There was peace between them as they parted although the Barman did say that in Bree, such things were held for a week before left in the Pile of forgettings. and if you added to the pile, it didn’t get thrown away.

Being a natural fist riser, Smeagol put on wet weather clothing since the rain would not stop, and the draped cloak suited him fine. It meant that he could walk around and get a sense of the place without much hassle. 

This is like using the old cloaks on the great journey. With that thought the pulled it over his head and scampered over to the stable, where he slipped into the shadows and observed Sam Gamgee, who was talking to his horse.

“And then we’ll head to the Shire, and I’ll show you great big orchards with great bit apples.”

Silly Hobbit! Horsey can’t understands him.

Smeagol was thinking that at the exact point that Bill whinnied and nuzzled Sam’s hair.

“Apples, right, I can tell you like the idea Bill. Big red apples.”

Bill neighed happily and Smeagol slipped away, shaking his head. Then again if anyone would end up talking to a horse and getting an answer, Sam Gamgee fit the bill of exactly who it would happen to.

The rain spattered around so he was left to his own devices. He grinned, realising that he was happy on his own, but he wasn’t alone. he operated best like this anyway, flitting around from shadow to shadow, clambering up and over the buildings getting the lay of the land. 

He stopped perched on the highest building he could find, using his long honed skills of tracking to figure a few things out.when he realised which way the brigands had retreated, he had an idea of where they were going and hoped he was wrong. He flitted back to the Prancing Pony.

When he got back, the Hobbits and Gandalf were ready to leave although Frodo was frowning. Smeagol knew that look and decided he’d keep his counsel to himself for now and go ‘fishing’ a lot on his way to the shire. 

‘Best make sure I’m right... no need to worry Baggins if I don’t need to’ thought Smeagol.

The party wished the middle aged barman farewell and rode away, and passed through the West-gate and on towards the Shire. Bill the pony was with them, and as before he had a good deal of baggage, but he trotted along beside Sam and seemed well content. Sam was occasionally asking him questions. 

Gandalf confirmed that Bill was indeed, answering. “It would seem that time with the Elves of Mirkwood served him well.”

“Something to discuss at a later point eh?” said Sam.

“Who with?” Asked Pippin.

“Bill, you nincompoop. Who else?”

Frodo chuckled briefly but then his pensive mood returned. “I wonder what old Barliman was hinting at,” said Frodo. 

“I can guess some of it,’ said Sam gloomily. ‘What I saw in the Mirror: trees cut down and all, and my old gaffer turned out of the Row. I ought to have hurried back quicker.”

“And something's wrong with the Southfarthing evidently,' said Merry. 'There's a general shortage of pipe-weed.”

“Whatever it is,' said Pippin, 'Lotho will be at the bottom of it, I’m sure of it.” 

“Deep in, but not at the bottom,' said Gandalf. 'You have forgotten Saruman. He began to take an interest in the Shire before Mordor did.”

“Well, we've got you with us,' said Merry, 'so things will soon be cleared up.' 

'I am with you at present,' said Gandalf, 'but soon I shall not be. I am not coming to the Shire. You must settle its affairs yourselves. That is what you have been trained for. Do you not yet understand? My time is over. It is no longer my task to set things to rights, nor to help folk to do so. And as for you, my dear friends, you will need no help. You are grown up now. Grown indeed very high; among the great you are and I have no longer any fear at all for any of you.”

Frodo smiles sadly. “I understand. It is like how Galadriel could not continue to help Smeagol or a parent do everything for their children.” 

 

“Indeed Frodo Baggins. And look at yourself, your growth, your stature. I have guided you, nurtured you and protected you. But now it is time to pass on that duty to you although in your case, it will be a short lived one. The situation for which you need it will be quickly resolved, one way or another.”

“Tells us what it is?” said Smeagol slipping briefly back into his old speech which he still did when he got exasperated.

“No. said Gandalf, I am now forbidden from further assistance and as fond as I am of all you, especially you Peregrin Took, I would not if I could.”

“Wait, especially me? That’s surprising.

“You rose from foolish prankster with a good heart to one of the bravest and noblest people I know and I trust you and place you amongst the wise now.”

“Sam,’ said Frodo, ‘stop laughing.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I just thought I’d make sure you did not start.”

Gandalf chuckled. “Nonetheless. were old friends so I will tell you,, I am turning aside soon. I am going to have a long talk with Bombadil: such a talk as I have not had in all my time. He is a moss-gatherer, and I have been a stone doomed to rolling. But my rolling days are ending, and now we shall have much to say to one another.”

Smeagol wondered what stopping would be like and for a moment, he envied the old wizard and momentarily thought of asking if he could go with him. Then he recalled his own concerns about what he thought Frodo and the others would face. 

Not only that but part of him knew full well that he whilst he was much much better, to desert Frodo now would start him slipping back into darkness. he shook his head and sighed. And looked up just in time to see Gandalf studying him.

He turned his head. “Hobbits belong in The Shire. and that means the five of you. and Frodo?”

“Yes Gandalf?”

“Your guardianship of Smeagol will come to an end there. though not your friendship.” And he would say no more.

* * *

In a little while they came to the point on the East Road where they had taken leave of Bombadil and Frodo looked south wistfully. “I should dearly like to see the old fellow again,' he said. 'I wonder how he is getting on?” 

Gandalf. “Quite untroubled I should guess, not much interested in anything that we have done or seen, unless perhaps in our visits to the Ents. There may be a time later for you to go and see him. But if I were you, I should press on now for home, or you will not come to the Brandywine Bridge before the gates are locked.” 

'But there aren't any gates,' said Merry, 'not on the Road. You know that quite well. There's the Buckland Gate, of course, but they'll let me through that at any time.”

“There weren't any gates, you mean,' said Gandalf. ‘I think you will find some now. And you might have more trouble even at the Buckland Gate than you think. But you'll manage all right. Good-bye dear friends! Not for the last time, not yet. Goodbye!” 

He turned Shadowfax off the Road, and the great horse leaped the green dike that ran beside it at this point he reared up in salute as Gandalf raised his staff and then at a cry from Gandalf Shadowfax was gone, racing towards the Barrow-downs like a wind from the North.


	11. Rewriting the Rule Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbits have travelled home but mischief and mayhem seem to beaten them to the Shire.

Rewriting the Rule book

They watched Gandalf go and stayed there a few minutes silently taking stock and wishing the white wizard well in his retirement. Smeagol was minded of Ba-, Bilbo he corrected himself. He shrugged.

* * *

It was after nightfall when, wet and tired, the travellers came at last to the Brandywine. Instead of finding an easy road they found instead that the way was barred. At either end of the Bridge there was a great spiked gate; and on the further side of the river they could see that some new houses had been built: two-storeyed with narrow straight-sided windows, bare and dimly lit, all very gloomy and un-Shirelike. 

Smeagol’s blood ran cold. Just looking at those intrusive buildings told him his earlier suspicions had been correct. He cursed profusely. He’d only gone and forgotten to tell Frodo about it after all.

He hopped from foot to foot, and kept cursing. First in Goblin, then in Orcish. Entish came next, followed by Dunedan, followed by choice expressions of the Rohirrim which made Merry’s face freeze. As Smeagol uttered some phrases he’d learned in Gondor, Pippin’s expression mirrored Merry’s. 

Once he’d finished cursing the air blue he turned around.. and found himself looking straight into Frodo’s waiting gaze and Frodo was staring straight at him; waiting for an explanation.

Just behind Pippin looked at Merry, “Good thing the the weather’s already this bad old chap... not as if he could’ve cursed it any fouler eh?”

There was a clap of thunder. Then the rain started coming down harder. Merry looked at Pippin and shook his head.  
“Not my fault, not my fault!” said Pippin.

Meanwhile Smeagol was rushing through his assessment at speed, wanting to get all the information out but not wanting to take anywhere near as Gandalf took with Butterbur.

“I see.” Said Frodo when all was said. “This changes things up some. Sam, get their attention at the gate. Merry, Pippin stay back unless and until needed. Smeagol, get in the shadows and make sure that nothing comes out of them to attack us. No killing. Unless it’s Orcs or Goblins.”

“But Master-”

“That’s every bit an order as the one I’ve given everyone else.” The light shone from Frodo and Smeagol recognised it. The fire was back. though it had been reforged and purified.

“Yes sir, I will chase them off and try not to hurt anyone too much.” he slunk away and Sam shuddered, for even though he had much trust in Smeagol, the spidery way he disappeared unnerved him still.

*

Sam hammered on the outer gate and called, but there was at first no answer; and then to their surprise someone blew a horn, and the lights in the windows went out. A voice shouted in the dark: “Who's that? Be off with you! You can't come in! Can't you read the notice: No admittance between sundown and sunrise?' 

 

“Of course we can't read the blasted notice in the dark.' Sam shouted back. and if hobbits of the Shire are to be kept out in the wet on a night like this, I'll tear down your notice when I find it.”

 

At that a window slammed, and a crowd of hobbits with lanterns poured out of the house on the left. They opened the further gate, and some came over the bridge. When they saw the travellers they seemed frightened. 

“Come along!' said Merry, recognizing one of the hobbits. 'If you don't know me, Hob Hayward, you ought to. I am Merry Brandybuck, and I should like to know what all this is about, and what a Bucklander like you is doing here. You used to be on the Hay Gate.”

“Bless me! It's Master Merry, to be sure, and all dressed up for fighting!' said old Hob. 'Why, they said you was dead! Lost in the Old Forest by all accounts. I'm pleased to see you alive after all!!

“Then stop gaping at me through the bars, you great ninny and open the gate!' said Merry. 

“I'm sorry, Master Merry, but we have orders.' 

'Whose orders?' 

“The Chief's up at Bag End.”

“Chief? Chief? Do you mean Mr. Lotho?' said Frodo. 

“I suppose so, Mr. Baggins; but we have to say just “the Chief” nowadays.”

“Do you indeed!' said Frodo. 'Well, I am glad he has dropped the Baggins at any rate. But it is evidently high time that the family dealt with him and put him in his place.” 

A hush fell on the hobbits beyond the gate. “It won't do no good talking that way,' said one. 'He'll get to hear of it. And if you make so much noise, you'll wake the Chief's Big Man.” 

“We shall wake him up in a way that will surprise him,' said Merry. 'If you mean that your precious Chief has been hiring ruffians out of the wild, then we've not come back too soon.' 

He sprang from his pony, and seeing the notice in the light of the lanterns, he tore it down and threw it over the gate. The hobbits backed away and made no move to open it. 

“Come on, Pippin!' said Merry. 'Two is enough.” 

Merry and Pippin climbed the gate, and the Hobbits fled. Then another horn sounded. Out of the bigger house on the right a large heavy figure appeared against a light in the doorway. 

“What's all this,' he snarled as he came forward. 'Gate-breaking? You clear out, or I'll break your filthy little necks!” Then he stopped, for he had caught the gleam of swords. 

“Bill Ferny,' said Merry, 'if you don't open that gate in ten seconds, you'll regret it. I shall set steel to you, if you don't obey. And when you have opened the gates you will go through them and never return. You are a ruffian and a highway-robber.” 

Bill Ferny flinched and shuffled to the gate and unlocked it. 'Give me the key!' said Merry. But the ruffian flung it at his head and then darted out into the darkness. As he passed the ponies one of them let fly with his heels and just caught him as he ran. 

“I’ll be back soon mr Frodo.” Smeagol cackled as he scurried away after bill Ferny. “I promise to be mostly good!”

*

“Neat work, Bill,” said Sam, meaning the pony. 

'So much for your Big Man,' said Merry. 'We'll see the Chief later. In the meantime we want a lodging for the night, and as you seem to have pulled down the Bridge Inn and built this dismal place instead, you'll have to put us up.”

'I am sorry, Mr. Merry,' said Hob, 'but it isn't allowed.' 'What isn't allowed?' Taking in folk off-hand like and eating extra food, and all that, said Hob.   
'What's the matter with the place?' said Merry. 'Has it been a bad year, or what? I thought it had been a fine summer and harvest.' 

'Well no, the year's been good enough,' said Hob. 'We grows a lot of food, but we don't rightly know what becomes of it. It's all these “gatherers” and “sharers”, I reckon, going round counting and measuring and taking off to storage. They do more gathering than sharing, and we never see most of the stuff again.' 

'Oh come!' said Pippin yawning. 'This is all too tiresome for me tonight. We've got food in our bags. Just give us a room to lie down in. It'll be better than many places I have seen.'or you can get me very very annoyed. 

The hobbits at the gate still seemed ill at ease, evidently some rule or other was being broken; but there was no gainsaying four such masterful travellers, all armed, and two of them uncommonly large and strong-looking. One of whom’s patience was obviously wearing very thin very fast.

* * *

Bill Ferny was a fairly fast runner but whatever was coming up behind him was faster an better at staying unseen. Unfelt would have been used as well except that the instant he stopped to try and turn and fight, sharp teeth clenched hard on his buttocks. He turned to see ferocious eyes glaring at him. Smeagol spat out the trouser fragment he had between his teeth and spoke.

“Go away and never come back, or these teeth will be the last thing you feel, Closing around your neck.”

Bill Ferny whimpered and fled into the Darkness and was never heard of again.

* * *

Once Smeagol returned, Frodo ordered the gates to be locked again. There was some sense at any rate in keeping a guard, while ruffians were still about. Then the five companions went into the hobbit guard-house and made themselves as comfortable as they could. It was a bare and ugly place, with a mean little grate that would not allow a good fire. In the upper rooms were little rows of hard beds, and on every wall there was a notice and a list of Rules. Pippin tore them down. 

Smeagol watched admiringly as he saw the Hobbits he’d travelled with get fired up and he felt the gap between them and himself narrow even further.

The gate hobbits had was no beer and very little food, but with what the travellers brought and shared out they all made a fair meal; and Pippin broke Rule Four by putting most of next day's allowance of wood on the fire. 

“Well now, what about a smoke, while you tell us what has been happening in the Shire?” he said. 

'There isn't no pipe-weed now,' said Hob, 'or it’s just Chief's men that get it. All the stocks seem to have gone. We do hear that waggon-loads of it went away down the old road out of the Southfarthing, over Sarn Ford way. That would be the end o' last year, after you left. But it had been going away quietly before that, in a small way.”

 

“That Lotho—” the Hobbit called Hob began.

“Now you shut up, Hob Hayward!' cried several of the others. 'You know talk o' that sort isn't allowed. The Chief will hear of it, and we'll all be in trouble.” 

“He wouldn't hear naught, if some of you here weren't sneaks,” rejoined Hob hotly. 

“All right, all right!' said Sam. “That's quite enough. I don't want to hear no more. No welcome, no beer, no smoke, and a lot of rules and orc-talk instead. I hoped to have a rest, but I can see there's work and trouble ahead. Let's sleep and forget it till morning!” 

“Now you see here-” started one of the Shirriffs but stopped when Smeagol leaped from one table and landed adroitly on another and grinned ferally at him. Smeagol remembered how Frodo and Sam had first looked at him with fear and disgust. 

He could see it here. the Sheriff's reactions weren’t as deep as his friends’ had been and he wondered why. He wondered for a while but he just couldn’t figure out the reason.  
* * *

The night went without incident and Frodo and the others were planning. they shared their basic food around with the less fortunate Shirriffs but Hob got Bacon and eggs, with a cup of Eleven wine.

“What’s this for Merry?” he said.

“For having some Hobbit sense left.” Hob smiled warmly and felt his hope rise that something could now be done. He helped them pack, ignoring the hisses some gave him or the warnings that other Hobbits, less brave but still caring gave him. 

After a few minutes of this a few hobbits changed their minds and started helping Hob and he said their names and remembered their faces.

As for Frodo and his friends they had not made any definite plans, but had vaguely thought of going down to Crickhollow together first, and resting there a bit. But now, seeing what things were like, they decided to go straight to Hobbiton. So they set out along the road and jogged along steadily. The wind had dropped but the sky was grey. The land looked rather sad and forlorn and it seemed a little pronounced even for the closing of Autumn. 

Still there seemed an unusual amount of burning going on, and smoke rose from many points round about. A great cloud of it was going up far away in the direction of the Woody End. As evening fell they were drawing near to Frogmorton, a village right on the Road, about twenty-two miles from the Bridge, where they planned to stay the night at The Floating Log, a reputable inn.

Smeagol adjusted the strap of his new backpack though it felt weird to him. The fishing jacket he had pinched from the shirriff house suited his thinking far better. He had spent a few minutes looking at it trying to figure out what use it was when Merry had told him and described what the pockets were for. 

He finished tying back his pack and gazed at his reflection in the water. The pack fit nicely now and the jacket hung loosely on him. Looking at his torso he was glad to see his scars had faded and his wiriness was as obvious as ever.

As they journeyed on a few Hobbit maidens averted their eyes. Othes shot bashful looks in the company’s direction and some blushed. Turning slightly to Sam he said, “Seeing how much all those lovely hobbit ladies admire mr Frodo makes me happy.”

The sound of Samwise Gamgee facepalming rebounded across the town.

But as they came to the east end of the village they met a barrier with a large board saying no road which had behind it a large band of Shirriffs with staves in their hands and feathers in their caps, looking both important and rather scared. 

'What's all this?' said Frodo, feeling inclined to laugh. 

“This is what it is, Mr. Baggins, said the leader of the Shirriffs, a two-feather hobbit: You're arrested for Gate-breaking, and Tearing up of Rules, and Assaulting Gatekeepers, and Trespassing, and Sleeping in Shire-buildings without Leave, and Bribing Guards with Food. and stealing clothes, so give them back.” 

“And if I say no.”

“We’ll take them off you.”

“Go on then… “

“...just as soon as we get to the Shirriff House.”

“Thought so.” Said Smeagol. Behind him. Sam gave a derisive snort

“And what else?” said Frodo. 

“That'll do to go on with,” said the Shirriff-leader, knowing he was out of his depth. 

“ And I can add some more, if you like it,' said Sam. 'Calling your Chief Names, Wishing punch his Pimply Face, and Thinking you Shirriffs look a lot of Tom-fools.” 

“There now, Mister, that'll do. It's the Chief's orders that you're to come along quiet. We're going to take you to Bywater and hand you over to the Chief's Men; and when he deals with your case you can have your say. But if you don't want to stay in the Lockholes any longer than you need, I should cut the say short, if I was you.” 

To the discomfiture of the Shirriffs, Frodo and his companions all roared with laughter. 

“Don't be absurd!' said Frodo. 'You never had any power here and we both knew it. But I was being kind and generous. But then you had to get swollen headed and try to hang on to your false pride. And like my uncle before me, I will have NONE of it: And Bilbo could talk sense into Dwarfs!”

“But Mister Baggins-”

“I am going where I please, and in my own time. I happen to be going to Bag End on business, but if you insist on going too, well that is your affair.”

'Okay then Mr. Baggins sir,' said the leader, pushing the barrier aside. 'But if people ask, don't forget I've arrested you.' 

Frodo gazed at the Shirriff and Smeagol leant nonchalantly against a tree. any time a Shirriff move in his direction Smeagol would whip his head round and stare at them until they moved away again which tended to happen very quickly

“I won't forget you’ve arrested me, ,' said Frodo to the Shirriff rather sternly. 'Never. But I may forgive you. Now I am not going any further today, so if you'll kindly escort me to The Floating Log, I'll be obliged.”

“I can't do that, Mr. Baggins. The inn's closed though i hasten to say, not by my hand. There's a Shirriff-house at the far end of the village. I'll take you there.” 

“All right,' said Frodo. 'Go on and we'll follow. make sure everything’s ready for us on our arrival.”

Meanwhile. Sam had been looking the Shirriffs up and down and had spotted one that he knew. 

'Hey, come here Robin Smallburrow!' he called. 'I want a word with you.' 

With a sheepish glance at his leader, who looked wrathful but did not dare to interfere, Shirriff Smallburrow fell back and walked beside Sam, who got down off his pony. 

“Look here, Cock-robin!' said Sam. 'You're Hobbiton-bred and ought to have more sense, coming a-waylaying Mr. Frodo and all. And what's all this about the inn being closed?” 

'They're all closed,' said Robin. 'The Chief doesn't hold with beer. Leastways that is how it started. But now I reckon it's his Men that has it all. And he doesn't hold with folk moving about; so if they will or they must, then they has to go to the Shirriff house and explain their business.' 

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself having anything to do with such nonsense,' said Sam. 'You used to like the inside of an inn better than the outside yourself. You were always popping in, on duty or off!” 

'And so I would be still, Sam, if I could. But don't be hard on me. What can I do? You know how I went for a Shirriff seven years ago, before any of this began. Gave me a chance of walking round the country and seeing folk, and hearing the news, and knowing where the good beer was. But now it's different.” 

“But you can give it up, stop Shirriffing, if it has stopped being a respectable job,' said Sam. 

'We're not allowed to,' said Robin. 

'If I hear not allowed much oftener,' said Sam, 'I'm going to get angry.'   
Smeagol paused for a second. He remembered seeing Sam angry and hoped that when the lost his temper he wouldn’t break these poor silly Hobbits. They looked so worn and - then it hit him. he;d been far far worse than this.

“Sam need to get angry at the right person, not poor Hobbits who have never left the Shire.”

“Can't say as I'd be sorry to see it,' said Robin lowering his voice. 'If we all got angry together something might be done. But it's these Men, Sam, the Chief's Men. He sends them round everywhere, and if any of us small folk stand up for our rights, they drag him off to the Lockholes. They took old Flourdumpling, old Will Whitfoot the Mayor, first, and they've taken a lot more. Lately it's been getting worse. Often they beat 'em now.” 

“Then why do you do their work for them?' said Sam angrily. 'Who sent you to Frogmorton?” 

“No one did. We stay here in the big Shirriff-house. We're the First Eastfarthing Troop now. There's hundreds of Shirriffs all told and they want more, with all these new rules. Most of them are in it against their will, but not all. Even in the Shire there are some as like minding other folk's business and talking big. And there's worse than that: there's a few as do spy-work for the Chief and his Men.”

“Sneaking!” Smeagol said with feeling.

“You got that right Smeagol. an you know what sneaking makes me right?”

“Stupid.” Said Smeagol, missing his cue completely. 

The Shirriffs relaxed and laughed at that. Sam roared at them and Smeagol finally realised what Sam had been hinting at and added. “And Stupid sam is very Angry not think it through Sam!”

 

“Spies.. So that's how you had news of us, is it?' Asked Frodo.

“That's right. We aren't allowed to send by it now, but they use the old Quick Post service, and keep special runners at different points. One came in from Whitfurrows last night with a “secret message”, and another took it on from here. And a message came back this afternoon saying you was to be arrested and taken to Bywater, not direct to the Lockholes. The Chief wants to see you at once, evidently.” 

“He won't be so eager when Mr. Frodo has finished with him,” said Merry whilst Sam glowered at the Shirriffs. 

The Shirriff-house at Frogmorton was as bad as the Bridge-house. It had only one storey, but it had the same narrow windows, and was built of ugly pale bricks, badly laid. Inside it was damp and cheerless, and supper was served on a long bare table that had not been scrubbed for weeks. The food deserved no better setting. The travellers were glad to leave the place. 

It was about eighteen miles to Bywater, and they set off at ten o'clock in the morning. They would have started earlier, only the delay so plainly annoyed the Shirriff-leader. And these five Hobbits knew how to get on someone’s nerves on purpose. 

Smeagol helped by making Gollum noises right behind Shirriffs who didn’t know he was there. and when the leader tried to get Frodo to make him stop, Smeagol eyed him up like an appetiser. The leader did not try again.

The west wind shifted northward that day and it was turning colder, but the rain was gone. It was rather a comic cavalcade that left the village, though the few folk that came out to stare at the 'get-up' of the travellers did not seem quite sure whether laughing was allowed. A dozen Shirriffs had been told to act as escort to the 'prisoners' by the ‘prisoners’ and Merry made them march in front, while Frodo and his friends rode behind. 

Merry, Pippin, and Sam sat at their ease laughing and talking and singing, while the Shirriffs stumped along trying to look stern and important. Frodo, however, was silent and looked rather sad and thoughtful. 

The last person they passed was a sturdy old gaffer clipping a hedge. 'Hullo, hullo!' he jeered. 'Now who's arrested who?'

Two of the Shirriffs immediately left the party and went towards him. 

“Leader!' said Merry. 'Order your fellows back to their places at once, if you don't want me to deal with them!”

The two hobbits at a sharp word from the leader came back sulkily. 'Now get on!' said Merry, and after that the travellers saw to it that their ponies' pace was quick enough to push the Shirriffs along as fast as they could go. 

Smeagol had elected to walk and though the four adventurers pushed the pace he had no trouble keeping up. He jogged alongside the Shirriffs, when he got bored, he trotted up to the front and would amuse himself by going to the next gate, or milestone and wait there for them. 

When they lagged, he dropped back behind them and started making Gollum noises and making chomping noises which briefly spurred them on.

But Frodo Baggins did not approve. “Stop that Smeagol. It’s not fair or clever to do that to them.”

“But mr Frod-” Smeagol began.

“That my dear Smeagol, is an order.”  
Smeagol pouted until Merry rode up to him and said. “Keep your strength for those as really really deserve it eh old fellow?”

That made sense and Smeagol slowed down. He almost slowed down enough for the shirriffs to catch up.

Then the sun came out, and in spite of the chilly wind the Shirriffs were soon puffing and sweating. At the Three-Farthing Stone they gave it up. They had done nearly fourteen miles with only one rest at noon. It was now three o'clock. They were hungry and very footsore and they could not stand the pace. 

“Well, come along in your own time! said Merry. 'We are going on.” 

“Good-bye, Cock-robin!' said Sam. 'I'll wait for you outside The Green Dragon, if you haven't forgotten where that is. Don't dawdle on the way!” 

“You're breaking arrest, that's what you're doing,' said the leader ruefully, 'and I can't be answerable.” 

'We shall break a good many things yet, and not ask you to answer,' said Pippin. 'Good luck to you!” 

The travellers trotted on, and as the sun began to sink towards the White Downs far away on the western horizon they came to Bywater by its wide pool; and there they had their first really painful shock. 

This was Frodo and Sam's own country, and they found out now that they cared about it more than any other place in the world. Many of the houses that they had known were missing. Some seemed to have been burned down. The pleasant row of old hobbit-holes in the bank on the north side of the Pool were deserted, and their little gardens that used to run down bright to the water's edge were rank with weeds.   
Worse, there was a whole line of the ugly new houses all along Pool Side, where the Hobbiton Road ran close to the bank. An avenue of trees had stood there. They were all gone. And looking with dismay up the road towards Bag End they saw a tall chimney of brick in the distance. It was pouring out black smoke into the evening air. Sam was beside himself. 

“I'm going right on, Mr. Frodo!' he cried. 'I'm going to see what's up. I want to find my gaffer.” 

“We ought to find out first what we're in for, Sam,' said Merry. 'I guess that the “Chief” will have a gang of ruffians handy. We had better find someone who will tell us how things are round here.”

But in the village of Bywater all the houses and holes were shut, and no one greeted them. They wondered at this, but they soon discovered the reason of it. When they reached The Green Dragon, the last house on the Hobbiton side, now lifeless and with broken windows, they were disturbed to see half a dozen large ill-favoured Men lounging against the inn-wall; they were squint-eyed and sallow-faced. 

“Like that friend of Bill Ferny's at Bree,” said Sam. 

“Like many that I saw at Isengard,' muttered Merry. ‘And I’d hoped to never their ilk again.”

The ruffians had clubs in their hands and horns by their belts, but they had no other weapons, as far as could be seen. As the travellers rode up they left the wall and walked into the road, blocking the way. 

“Where d'you think you're going?” said one, the largest and most evil-looking of the crew. 

“There's no road for you any further. And where are those precious Shirriffs?” 

“Coming along nicely,' said Merry. 'A little footsore, perhaps. We promised to wait for them here.” 

“Garn, what did I say?' said the ruffian to his mates. 'I told Sharkey it was no good trusting those little fools. Some of our chaps ought to have been sent.” 

“And what difference would that have made, pray?' said Merry. 'We are not used to footpads in this country, but we know how to deal with them.' 

'Footpads, eh?' said the man. 'So that's your tone, is it? Change it, or we'll change it for you. You little folk are getting too uppish. Don't you trust too much in the Boss's kind heart. Sharkey's come now and he'll do what Sharkey says.” 

“And what may that be?' said Frodo quietly. 

“This country wants waking up and setting to rights,' said the ruffian, 'and Sharkey's going to do it and make it hard, if you drive him to it. You need a bigger Boss. And you'll get one before the year is out, if there's any more trouble. Then you'll learn a thing or two, you little rat-folk.”

Smeagol hissed when the ruffian said ‘footpad’. The ruffian just sneered at him. 

Frodo drew himself up and everyone looked his way. “Indeed. I am glad to hear of your plans. I am on my way to call on Mr. Lotho, and he may be interested to hear of them too.” 

The ruffian laughed. “Lotho! He knows all right. Don't you worry. He'll do what Sharkey says. Because if a Boss gives trouble, we can change him. See? And if little folks try to push in where they're not wanted, we can put them out of mischief. See?” 

“Yes, I see,' said Frodo. 'For one thing, I see that you're behind the times and the news here. Much has happened since you left the South. Your day is over, and that of all other ruffians'. The Dark Tower has fallen, and there is a King in Gondor. And Isengard has been destroyed, and your precious master is a beggar in the wilderness. I passed him on the road. The King's messengers will ride up the Greenway now not bullies from Isengard.' 

The man stared at him and gave a mocking smiles. “A beggar in the wilderness! Oh, is he indeed? Swagger it, swagger it, my little cock-a-whoop. But that won't stop us living in this fat little country where you have lazed long enough. And' – he snapped - “ 'King's messengers! That for them! When I see one, I'll take notice, perhaps.' 

This was too much for Pippin. His thoughts went back to the Field of Cormallen, and here was a squint-eyed rascal calling the Ring-bearer 'little cock-a-whoop'. He cast back his cloak, flashed out his sword, and the silver and sable of Gondor gleamed on him as he rode forward. 

“I am a messenger of the King,' he said. 'You are speaking to the King's friend, and one of the most renowned in all the lands of the West. You are a ruffian and a fool. Down on your knees in the road and ask pardon, or I will set this troll's bane in you!” 

“And Smeagol will bite you.” said Smeagol, meaning every word of it.

“No.You will not.” said Frodo, also meaning every word of it. “Watch.”

Pippin’s sword glinted in the westering sun. Merry and Sam drew their swords also and rode up to support Pippin, but Frodo and Smeagol held their place. The ruffians gave back. Scaring Breeland peasants, and bullying bewildered hobbits, had been their work. Fearless hobbits with bright swords and grim faces were a great surprise. And there was a note in the voices of these newcomers that they had not heard before. It chilled them with fear. 

“Go!' said Merry. 'If you trouble this village again, you will regret it.”

“And if they come back, Smeagol, then you may bite them though yous till must not kill them or make it so they die. I will not be dismayed with you.” 

The three armed hobbits came on, and then the ruffians turned and fled running away up the Hobbiton Road; but they blew their horns as they ran. 

“Well, we've come back none too soon,' said Merry. 'Not a day too soon.”

“Perhaps too late, at any rate to save Lotho,' said Frodo. 'Miserable fool, but I am sorry for him.” 

'Save Lotho? Whatever do you mean?' said Pippin. 'Destroy him I should say.' 

'I don't think you quite understand things, Pippin,' said Frodo. 'Lotho never meant things to come to this pass. He has been a wicked fool, but he's caught now. The ruffians are on top, gathering, robbing and bullying, and running or ruining things as they like, in his name. And not in his name even for much longer. He's a prisoner in Bag End now, I expect, and very frightened. We ought to try and rescue him.' 

“We’d never get there mister Frodo, they’ll see us coming from miles away and be ready for us..”

“If we being like an army Sam but there’s one of us who can get lotho out in time. The hour of Smeagol is at hand.”


	12. Smeagol of the Shire.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smeagol is challenged. Smeagol answers the Challenge. Lotho PImple's luck takes a turn for the better, at least compared to what was going to happen to him.

“Well I am staggered!' said Pippin. 'Of all the ends to our journey that is the very last I should have thought of: to have to fight half-orcs and ruffians in the Shire itself – to rescue Lotho Pimple!” 

“Fight?' said Frodo. 'Well, I suppose it may come to that. But remember: there is to be no slaying of hobbits, not even if they have gone over to the other side. Really gone over, I mean, not just obeying ruffians' orders because they are frightened. No hobbit has ever killed another on purpose in the Shire, and it is not to begin now. And nobody is to be killed at all, if it can be helped. not even the captor of Lotho.”

“Keep your tempers and hold your hands to the last possible moment!” 

“But if there are many of these ruffians,' said Merry, 'it will certainly mean fighting. You won't rescue Lotho, or the Shire, just by being shocked and sad, my dear Frodo.” 

“No,' said Pippin. 'It won't be so easy scaring them a second time. They were taken by surprise. You heard that horn-blowing? Evidently there are other ruffians near at hand. They'll be much bolder when there's more of them together. We ought to think of taking cover somewhere for the night. After all we're only four, even if we are armed.” 

“I've an idea,' said Sam. 'Let's go to old Tom Cotton's down South Lane! He always was a stout fellow. And he has a lot of lads that were all friends of mine.” 

“No!' said Merry. 'It's no good “getting under cover”. That is just what people have been doing, and just what these ruffians like. They will simply come down on us in force, corner us, and then drive us out, or burn us in. No, we have got to do something at once.”

“Do what?” said Pippin. 

“Raise the Shire!' said Merry. 'Now! Wake all our people! They hate all this, you can see: all of them except perhaps one or two rascals, and a few fools that want to be important, but don't at all understand what is really going on. But Shire-folk have been so comfortable so long they don't know what to do. They just want a match, though, and they'll go up in fire. The Chief's Men must know that. They'll try to stamp on us and put us out quick. We've only got a very short time. Sam, you can make a dash for Cotton's farm, if you like. He's the chief person round here, and the sturdiest. Come on! I am going to blow the horn of Rohan, and give them all some music they have never heard before.” 

They rode back to the middle of the village. There Sam turned aside and galloped off down the lane that led south to Cotton's. He had not gone far when he heard a sudden clear horn-call go up ringing into the sky. Far over hill and field it echoed; and so compelling was that call that Sam himself almost turned and dashed back. His pony reared and neighed. 'On, lad! On!' 'We'll be going back soon.' 

Frodo turned to Smeagol. “And now it is time for you to face a few last tests, on your own and of your own free will. You may decline and if you do you may leave and leave out your life, anywhere, even the Shire.”

Frodo smiled as he paused, “But I ask you because I believe in you and you are the only one that can reach both Bag End in time.”

“Bag End?” Smeagol blinked. Then he chuckled a little. “I’ve always meant to go to Bag End.”

Frodo shared an ironic smile with Smeagol and then said “I believe you know the way?”

“Yes.”

Frodo clasped Smeagol by the arm. “Today I name you, Smeagol of the Shire. Now go, and earn it anew.”

With Sam hurrying to see his gaffer, Smeagol raced off, disappearing into the shadows. The note of the Horn of Rohan spurred him on to the fastest he had ever run

*

Sam Gamgee raced to his destination and behind him he heard a hubbub of voices and a great din and slamming of doors. In front of him lights sprang out in the gloaming; dogs barked; feet came running. Before he got to the lane's end there was Farmer Cotton with three of his lads, Young Tom, Jolly, and Nick, hurrying towards him. They had axes in their hands, and barred the way. 

“Nay! It's not one of them ruffians,' Sam heard the farmer say. 'It's a hobbit by the size of it, but all dressed up queer. Hey!' he cried. 'Who are you, and what's all this to-do?” 

“It's Sam, Sam Gamgee. I've come back.” 

Farmer Cotton came up close and stared at him in the twilight. “Well!' he exclaimed. 'The voice is right, and your face is no worse than it was, Sam. But I should a' passed you in the street in that gear. You've been in foreign parts, seemingly. We feared you were dead.” 

“That I ain't!' said Sam. 'Nor Mr. Frodo. He's here and his friends. And that's the todo. They're raising the Shire. We're going to clear out these ruffians, and their Chief too. We're starting now.'”

“Good, good!' cried Farmer Cotton. 'So it's begun at last! I've been itching for trouble all this year, but folks wouldn't help. And I've had the wife and Rosie to think of. These ruffians don't stick at nothing. But come on now, lads! Bywater is up! We must be in it!” 

“What about Mrs. Cotton and Rosie?' said Sam. 'It isn't safe yet for them to be left all alone.” 

“My Nibs is with them. But you can go and help him, if you have a mind,” said Farmer Cotton with a grin. Then he and his sons ran off towards the village. Sam hurried to the house. By the large round door at the top of the steps from the wide yard stood Mrs. Cotton and Rosie, and Nibs in front of them grasping a hayfork. 

“It's me!' shouted Sam as he trotted up. 'Sam Gamgee! So don't try prodding me, Nibs. Anyway, I've a mail-shirt on me.”

He jumped down from his pony and went up the steps. They stared at him in silence. “Good evening, Mrs. Cotton!' 'Hullo Rosie!” 

“Hullo, Sam!' said Rosie. 'Where've you been? They said you were dead; but I've been expecting you since the Spring. You haven't hurried have you?” 

“Perhaps not,' said Sam abashed. 'But I'm hurrying now. We're setting about the ruffians, and I've got to get back to Mr. Frodo. But I thought I'd have a look and see how Mrs. Cotton was keeping, and you, Rosie.” 

“We're keeping nicely, thank you,' said Mrs. Cotton. 'Or should be, if it weren't for these thieving ruffians.” 

“Well, be off with you!' said Rosie. 'If you've been looking after Mr. Frodo all this while, what d'you want to leave him for, as soon as things look dangerous?” 

This was too much for Sam. It needed a week's answer, or none. He turned away and mounted his pony. But as he started off, Rosie ran down the steps. 

'I think you look fine, Sam,' she said. “Go on now! But take care of yourself, and come straight back as soon as you have settled the ruffians!” 

*

Ruffians were thrashing their clumsy long legged way through the Shire towns and Smeagol briefly thought of denting their resolve but each time he reminded himself that that was not his job.

Mister Frodo picked me because I can get to Lotho in time. Gets him out he says I can.

The roads blurred in his mind as he headed by long held instinct toward Bag End and his target. 

*

When Sam got back he found the whole village roused. Already, apart from many younger lads, more than a hundred sturdy hobbits were assembled with axes, and heavy hammers, and long knives, and stout staves: and a few had hunting-bows. More were still coming in from outlying farms. Some of the village-folk had lit a large fire, just to enliven things, and also because it was one of the things forbidden by the Chief. It burned bright as night came on. 

*

That same night was Smeagol’s friend as he moved swiftly and unseen through the buildings. As ugly as they were, the new Isengard inspired Houses gave him unexpected aid. Their roofs allowed him to leap over the heads of ruffians that he would otherwise have to have detoured around.  
Bag End was not close to where he had started but Smeagol had centuries of built up stamina. and these days, after decent eating and fair treatment he was almost fully back. he would never be as stout as Sam or even as stout a Frodo but he was no longer skeletal.

*

 

Back at the barricade, at Merry's orders barriers were being set up across the road at each end of the village. When the Shirriffs came up to the lower one they were dumbfounded; but as soon as they saw how things were, most of them took off their feathers and joined in the revolt. The others slunk away. Sam found Frodo and his friends by the fire talking to old Tom Cotton, while an admiring crowd of Bywater folk stood round and stared. 

“Well, what's the next move?” said Farmer Cotton. 

“I can't say,' said Frodo, 'until I know more. I have someone whose bests weapon is secrecy and there may yet be prying ears. I don’t suppose you know How many of these ruffians there are?”

“That's hard to tell,' said Cotton. 'They moves about and comes and goes. There's sometimes fifty of them in their sheds up Hobbiton way; but they go out from there roving round, thieving or “gathering” as they call it. Still there's seldom less than a score round the Boss, as they names him. He's at Bag End, or was; but he don't go outside the rounds now. No one’s seen him at all, in fact, for a week or two; but the Men don't let no one go near.”

“Hobbiton's not their only place, is it?” said Pippin. 

“'No, more's the pity,' said Cotton. 'There's a good few down south in Longbottom and by Sarn Ford, I hear; and some more lurking in the Woody End; and they've sheds at Waymeet. And then there's the Lockholes as they call 'em, the old storage tunnels at Michel Delving that they've made into prisons for those as stand up to them. Still I reckon there's not above three hundred of them in the Shire all told, and maybe less. We can master them, if we stick together.” 

“Have they got any weapons?' asked Merry. 

“Whips, knives, and clubs, enough for their dirty work: that's all they've showed so far,' said Cotton. 'But I dare say they've got other gear, if it comes to fighting. Some have bows, anyway. They've shot one or two of our folk.” 

“There you are, Frodo!' said Merry. 'I knew we should have to fight. Well, they started the killing.” 

“Not exactly,' said Cotton. 'Leastways not the shooting. Tooks started that. You see our dad Mr. Peregrin, he's never had no truck with this Lotho, and it all went up. Tooks shot at some of Sharkey’s men and the ruffians shot back. and now it’s all locked off.”

“Good for the Tooks!' cried Pippin. 'But someone is going to get in again, now. I am off to the Smials and I am not what they would expect. They thrive on fear and bullying and I have seen the worst of that! Anyone coming with me to Tuckborough?' Pippin rode off with half a dozen lads on ponies. 

“See you soon!' he cried. 'It's only fourteen miles or so over the fields. I'll bring you back an army of Tooks in the morning.” 

Merry blew a horn-call after them as they rode off into the gathering night. The people cheered. 

“All the same,' said Frodo to all those who stood near, 'I wish for no killing; not even of the ruffians, unless it must be done, to prevent them from hurting hobbits.” 

“All right!' said Merry. 'But we shall be having a visit from the Hobbiton gang any time now, I think. They won't come just to talk things over. We'll try to deal with them neatly, but we must be prepared for the worst. Now I've got a plan.” 

“Very good,' said Frodo. 'You make the arrangements.' Just then some hobbits, who had been sent out towards Hobbiton, came running in. 'They're coming!' they said. 'A score or more. But two have gone off west across country.” 

“To Waymeet, that'll be,' said Cotton, 'to fetch more of the gang. Well, it's fifteen mile each way. We needn't trouble about them just yet.”

Merry hurried off to give orders. Farmer Cotton cleared the street, sending everyone indoors, except the older hobbits who had weapons of some sort. 

 

* * *

Panting, Smeagol gazed at Bag End. This was where Bilbo Baggins had set out so many years ago and through many strange turns of fate had come to be in a pool in a cave in the Misty Mountains.

“Baggins.” He said to himself and it felt right. There was no hatred, no joy, just a sense of it being right that this one place, out of all he had ever been to should be the one heralding the end of his travels.

There was light inside what should be a cosy little Hobbit Hole but Smeagol could hear shouting.

“Imbecile! Louse! wretch!” 

Smeagol recognised the accent of Rohan and pondered it. He slipped below the now badly overgrown hedge that had once been tended with much care. Pressing his ear up as close as he dared.  
“Grima, you disturb my study with your disciplining of your pet.”

“But- but- you ordered me to punish him master!”

“I did not tell you to make a racket whilst doing it. or did I and somehow forget. is that it Grima? i my memory failing me. Perhaps I should remind myself of who is who here!”

There was a crack and the sound of whimpering like a beaten animal might give and Smeagol’s blood boiled and then froze. It boiled with rage for he knew the smooth masterly voice within to be Saruman of Isengard. But it froze with fear for this meant that Lotho was in mortal peril even now. 

Paralysed with indecision, Smeagol took a very deep breath. He knew that Saruman had his voice and that Grima was vicious and although he had faced the fallen wizard down before, that was in the wilderness when he was at his lowest.

What could he do now that Saruman had had time to restore himself?

“What indeed?” Boomed a rich smooth voice and the door to Bag End opened. Saruman filled the frame and fea assailed Smeagol’s heart.

“Even if Mr Frodo hadn’t already ordered me to spare lives, I would not end you, not here.”

“Now Smeagol, remember who I am and what I can do but here I think you could help Grima be a better henchman. And in time, I can regain enough power to reforge rings of power and you shall have such a precious one!

Preciousss… 

Then a horn of Rohan sounded once more. 

* * *

Even whilst smeagol struggled at Bag End, the others waited. Presently a whole squad of the ruffians came down the road. They saw the barrier and laughed. They did not imagine that there was anything in this little land that would stand up to twenty of their kind together. The hobbits opened the barrier and stood aside. 

“Thank you!' the Men jeered. 'Now run home to bed before you're whipped.' Then they marched along the street shouting: 'Put those lights out! Get indoors and stay there! Or we'll take fifty of you to the Lockholes for a year. Get in! The Boss is losing his temper.” 

No one paid any heed to their orders; but as the ruffians passed, they closed in quietly behind and followed them. When the Men reached the fire there was Farmer Cotton standing all alone warming his hands. 

“Who are you, and what d'you think you're doing?” said the ruffian-leader. Farmer Cotton looked at him slowly. 

“I was just going to ask you that,' he said. 'This isn't your country, and you're not wanted.” 

“Well, you're wanted anyhow,' said the leader. 'We want you. Take him lads! Lockholes for him, and give him something to keep him quiet!” 

The Men took one step forward and stopped short. There rose a roar of voices all round them, and suddenly they were aware that Farmer Cotton was not all alone. They were surrounded. In the dark on the edge of the firelight stood a ring of hobbits that had crept up out of the shadows. There was nearly two hundred of them, all of them holding some weapon. 

Merry stepped forward. “We have met before,' he said to the leader, 'and I warned you not to come back here. I warn you again: you are standing in the light and you are covered by archers. If you lay a finger on this farmer, or on anyone else, you will be shot at once. Lay down any weapons that you have!” 

The leader looked round. He was trapped. But he was not scared, not now with a score of his fellows to back him. He knew too little of hobbits to understand his peril. Foolishly he decided to fight. It would be easy to break out. 

'At 'em lads!' he cried. 'Let 'em have it!' With a long knife in his left hand and a club in the other he made a rush at the ring, trying to burst out back towards Hobbiton. He aimed a savage blow at Merry who stood in his way. He fell dead with four arrows in him: That was enough for the others. They gave in. Their weapons were taken from them, and they were roped together, and marched off to an empty hut that they had built themselves, and there they were tied hand and foot, and locked up under guard. The dead leader was dragged off and buried. 

And with that Merry Blew a triumphant note on the Horn he carried.

* * *

At Bag End Smeagol reacted and he leaped at Saruman. “NO! He shouted. “no more Rings!”

Saruman swung his staff and whacked Smeagol into the hedgerow. when Smeagol attacked again, Saruman snarled for his assailant looked like a miniature Ent. In his rage he failed to see the dumbfounded Grima watching on slack jawed and Lotho crawling ever so quietly (for even Lotho had his Hobbit skills), to freedom.

The staff Saruman now used whistled over Smeagol’s head and the Former ring bearer felt its narrow passing. he scurried backward, and blew a raspberry at Saruman and goaded him.

Saruman’s eyes narrowed and then he started laughing. “As you wish. You’ve already told me you can’t kill me so I really have nothing to gain here. Respect and good manner say I should bid you goodnight, so I shall do neither.

Breathing heavily Smeagol stayed exactly where he was, until at last he could hear shouting and recriminations within Bag End and some renewed whimpering. The he scampered off after Lotho.

* * *

Meanwhile Merry was glowering at prisoners who he cowed easily. 

“Seems almost too easy after all, don't it?' said Cotton. 'I said we could master them. But we needed a call. You came back in the nick o' time, Mr. Merry.” 

“There's more to be done still,' said Merry. 'If you're right in your reckoning, we haven't dealt with a tithe of them yet. But it's dark now. I think the next stroke must wait until morning. Then we must call on the Chief.” 

'Why not now?' said Sam. 'It's not much more than six o'clock. And I want to see my gaffer. D'you know what's come of him, Mr. Cotton?' 

“He's not too well, and not too bad, Sam,' said the farmer. 'They dug up Bagshot Row, and that was a sad blow to him. He's in one of them new houses that the Chief's Men used to build while they still did any work other than burning and thieving: not above a mile from the end of Bywater. But he comes around to me, when he gets a chance, and I see he's better fed than some of the poor bodies. All against The Rules, of course. I'd have had him with me, but that wasn't allowed.” 

“Thank'ee indeed, Mr. Cotton, and I'll never forget it,' said Sam. 'But I want to see him. That Boss and that Sharkey, as they spoke of, they might do a mischief up there before the morning.” 

“All right, Sam,' said Cotton. 'Choose a lad or two, and go and fetch him to my house. You'll not have need to go near the old Hobbiton village over Water. My Jolly here will show you.' 

Sam went off. Merry arranged for look-outs round the village and guards at the barriers during the night. Then he and Frodo went off with Farmer Cotton. And Frodo laid out the best food he could find in their rations.

 

* * *

Lotho PImple was running scared. That vicious little man had beaten him immediately on arrival at the behest of the older man. That was the one that made Lotho fear for his life. He was sure that had the whitebeard said, ‘shut him up, slitting his throat will do it’ then the one called Wormtongue would have obeyed, even if he hadn’t wanted to.

Lotho Pimple, while not evil, was not a very nice man. Once having been a boss in his own right he knew when someone had their hooks in deep in someone else. He made a silent promise that if he lived through the week, then he would generally people a bit better. He headed for the Smials.

Smeagol had other ideas and stepped out a little way ahead. Lotho recoiled terrified, and reminded Smeagol of rabbits he’d eaten.

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it. And you couldn’t have stopped me.”

Lotho slunk back. “This is one of his tricks isn’t it? I’ll feel all nice and safe. we’ll find a nice house to lie down in to shelter for the night and when I get up, I’ll realised that it’s bag End!” 

“Okay, fine, I’ll leave you alone, In the cold wet night, With an angry Saruman wanting you found. With all his men looking for you. With your mother locked up. Bye.” Smeagol set off heading for the lockholes.

Lotho’s expression changed though and he strode after Smeagol and grabbed him and spun him round lifting Smeagol full off his feet. “My mother is imprisoned?”

Smeagol leaned in close and with said quietly. “Put me down, Mr Lotho.”  
Lotho looked at the ground, which were a couple of feet beneath Smeagol’s own. His face flushed with embarrassment as he gently lowered his rescuer. He then proceeded to smooth out Smeagol’s jacket. 

Smeagol batted Lotho’s hands away, needing a couple of attempts to do so. he looked at Lotho, standing there, bedraggled, lost and afraid and then as the adrenaline left him from the fight, Smeagol recalled that the rain was spattering him too. It was under consideration for all of a few seconds before twenty men with torches and pitchforks were spotted heading their way.

* * *

 

At the Cottons, everyone had finished eating it was time to talk some more. Merry and Sam sat with the family in the warm kitchen, and the Cottons asked a few polite questions about their travels, but hardly listened to the answers: they were far more concerned with events in the Shire. Frodo was looking out of the window, concerned for the shire. 

“It all began with Pimple, as we call him,' said Farmer Cotton, 'and it began as soon as you'd gone off, Mr. Frodo. He'd funny ideas had Pimple. Seems he wanted to own everything himself, and then order other folk about. It soon came out that he already did own a sight more than was good for him; and he was always grabbing more, though where he got the money was a mystery: mills and malt-houses and inns, and farms, and leaf-plantations. He'd already bought Sandyman's mill before he came to Bag End, seemingly. 

“Of course he started with a lot of property in the Southfarthing which he had from his dad; and it seems he'd been selling a lot o' the best leaf, and sending it away quietly for a year or two. But at the end o' last year he began sending away loads of stuff, not only leaf. Things began to get short, and winter coming on, too. Folk got angry, but he had his answer. A lot of Men, ruffians mostly, came with great waggons, some to carry off the goods south-away, and others to stay. And more came. And before we knew where we were they were planted here and there all over the Shire, and were felling trees and digging and building themselves sheds and houses just as they liked. At first goods and damage was paid for by Pimple.”

“Seems like as annoying and as full of sharp practice as he was, he at least remembered he was Hobbit.” said Merry

“Don’t you go reminding me that he and us are the same folk Mr Meriadoc Brandybuck.” Sam muttered irritably.

Frodo turned slightly as he answered Sam’s comment. “But that’s just it Sam, he is one of us and he got himself into a lot more trouble than the rest of us. Besides if anyone gets to complain about him being ‘one of us’ it’s me, the one most closely related to him here.”

Farmer Cotton nodded at Frodo, “Blood is thicker than water Mr. Baggins. But Tooks and Baggins are cousin and so are Brandybucks and Tooks. And what with your uncle’s tales to contend with maybe Lotho wanted to make a big name for ‘imself.

Frodo smiled sadly. “Then he never realised something rather important. Neither I nor my uncle sought fame even if Bilbo had an adventurous streak that got the better of him.” 

Farmer Cotton waited tos ee Frodo would explain further and when he didn’t carried on with his own.

“Soon enough though those ruffians began lording it around and taking what they wanted. Then there was a bit of trouble, but not enough. Old Will the Mayor set off for Bag End to protest, but he never got there. Ruffians laid hands on him and took and locked him up in a hole in Michel Delving, and there he is now. And after that, it would be soon after New Year, there wasn't no more Mayor, and Pimple called himself Chief Shirriff, or just Chief, and did as he liked.”

“That’s the thing with power,’ Frodo interjected. ‘ if you’re not careful it can corrupt you and you seek more and more of it and then it all goes around in a foul circle.”

“Well,’ said Farmer Cotton, ‘Seems like he got corrupted alright. So, if anyone got “uppish” as they called it, they followed Will. So things went from bad to worse. There wasn't no smoke left, save for the Men; and the Chief didn't hold with beer, save for his Men, and closed all the inns; and everything except Rules got shorter and shorter, unless one could hide a bit of one's own when the ruffians went round gathering stuff up “for fair distribution”: which meant they got it and we didn't, except for the leavings which you could have at the Shirriff-houses, if you could stomach them. All very bad. But since Sharkey came it's been plain ruination.” 

“Who is this Sharkey?' said Merry. 'I heard one of the ruffians speak of him.” 

“The biggest ruffian o' the lot, seemingly,' answered Cotton. 'It was about last harvest, end o' September maybe, that we first heard of him. We've never seen him, but he's up at Bag End; and he's the real Chief now, I guess. All the ruffians do what he says; and what he says is mostly hack, burn, and ruin; and now it’s come to killing. There’s no longer even any bad sense in it. They cut down trees and let 'em lie, they burn houses and build no more. 'Take Sandyman's mill now. Pimple knocked it down almost as soon as he came to Bag End. Then he brought in a lot o' dirty-looking Men to build a bigger one and fill it full o' wheels and outlandish contraptions. Only that fool Ted was pleased by that, and he works there cleaning wheels for the Men, where his dad was the Miller and his own master. Pimple's idea was to grind more and faster, or so he said. He's got other mills like it. But you've got to have grist before you can grind; and there was no more for the new mill to do than for the old. 

Farmer Cotton paused, then shrugged. Then he continued. “Since Sharkey came himself near about a month back they don't grind no more corn at all. They're always a-hammering and a-letting out a smoke and a stench, and there isn't no peace even at night in Hobbiton. And they pour out filth a purpose; they've fouled all the lower Water and it's getting down into Brandywine. If they want to make the Shire into a desert, they're going the right way about it. I don't believe that fool of a Pimple's behind all this. It's Sharkey, I say.' 

Merry’s blood froze. the ruffians and the industry, the squinty eyed ruffians and the selling of the leaf was leading him to a name. He started rapidly calculating the days. when he thought on it, it felt like an iron gate closing on his thoughts and Merry knew it to be true.

“Frodo.’ the said, ‘It’s Saruman.”

Frodo shared worried look with his cousin. “I know.”

Cotton looked at them. “Well, if this Saruman is one of Sharkey’s men then he’s no good at all and we want him gone. Frodo put a hand on Merry’s hand to stop any explanation and Merry realised they already had what they needed.

“That's right!' put in Young Tom. 'Why, they even took Pimple's old ma, that Lobelia, and he was fond of her, if no one else was. Some of the Hobbiton folk, they saw it. She comes down the lane with her old umbrella. Some of the ruffians were going up with a big cart.”

Young Tom paused as everyone looked at him. He swallowed nerves and like a good Hobbit lad carried on telling what he’d started. ‘Where be you a-going?’ says Lobelia. ' ‘To Bag End,’ says they. 'What for?’ says she. 'To put up some sheds for Sharkey,’ says they. 'Who said you could?’ says she. 'Sharkey,’ says they. ‘So get out o' the road, old hagling!’ ‘I'll give you Sharkey, you dirty thieving ruffians!’ says she, and ups with her umbrella and goes for the leader. near twice her size. So they took her. Dragged her off to the Lockholes, at her age too. They've took others we miss more, but there's no denying she showed more spirit than most.”

 

* * *

Lotho Pimple was pulled up from the the slick wall by a vise like grip which was lucky for him because he had been about to slip off and fall two stories straight down right into Saruman’s cronies.

“Hobbits are supposed to be good climbers!” Smeagol hissed.

“I never liked heights!”

“I thinks you’ll like pitchforks in your bum far less!”

A pitchfork rebounded off the wall near as Smeagol hoisted Lotho the rest of the way. A quick look round showed the best way down and away. There were still ginnels between buildings that were Hobbit width. They were being used for refuse and animal waste. Part of Saruman’s revenge seemed to be to despoil the Shire and leave it festering rather than outright destruction.

The two Halflings sped away, their smaller more agile forms squeezing through, even though this was accompanied by the sound of Lotho’s cursing or standing in the piles of waste that Smeagol avoided.

Smeagol winced every time Lotho made a sound and thought of how he had used to chastise Sam and Frodo on their mission. Frodo back then was still as far ahead of Lotho as Smeagol was ahead of Frodo when it came to stealth.

Smeagol stopped for breath near a somewhat overgrown pond. Meaning both Lohot;s skills and his state Smeagol said simply, “You stink.”

Lotho blinked, looked at Smeagol and replied. “You sound like cousin Frodo.”

 

* * *

 

At Farmer Cotton’s came Sam, bursting in with his gaffer. Old Gamgee did not look much older, but he was a little deafer. 

“Good evening. Mr. Baggins!' he said. 'Glad indeed I am to see you safe back. But I've a bone to pick with you, in a manner o' speaking, if I may make so bold. You didn't never ought to have a' sold Bag End, as I always said. That's what started all the mischief. And while you're been trapessing in foreign parts, chasing Black Men up mountains from what my Sam says, though what for he don't make clear, they've been and dug up Bagshot Row and ruined my taters!” 

“I am very sorry, Mr. Gamgee,' said Frodo. 'But now I've come back, I'll do my best to make amends.” 

“Well, you can't say fairer than that,' said the gaffer. 'Mr. Frodo Baggins is a real gentlehobbit, I always have said, whatever you may think of some others of the name, begging your pardon. And I hope my Sam's behaved hisself and given satisfaction?” 

“Perfect satisfaction, Mr. Gamgee,' said Frodo. 'Indeed, if you will believe it, he's now one of the most famous people in all the lands, and they are making songs about his deeds from here to the Sea and beyond the Great River.” 

Sam blushed, but he looked gratefully at Frodo, for Rosie's eyes were shining and she was smiling at him. 

“It takes a lot o' believing,' said the gaffer, 'though I can see he's been mixing in strange company. What's come of his weskit? I don't hold with wearing ironmongery, whether it wears well or no.” 

Frodo smiled. It felt good to have such simple Hobbit thinking back in his life even win the current trouble

 

* * *


	13. The Scouring of the Shire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even whilst Merry and Frodo rally their people, Lotho finds who and what he needs. Lobelia gets irascible and Smeagol finds her refreshing even though he doesn't know how to express it.

Farmer Cotton's household and all his guests were up early next morning. Nothing had been heard in the night, but more trouble would certainly come before the day was old. 

“Seems as if none o' the ruffians were left up at Bag End,' said Cotton, 'but the gang from Waymeet will be along any time now.” 

After breakfast a messenger from the Tookland rode in. He was in high spirits. 

'The Thain has raised all our country,' he said, 'and the news is going like fire all ways. The ruffians that were watching our land have fled off south, those that escaped alive. The Thain has gone after them, to hold off the big gang down that way; but he's sent Mr Peregrin back with all the other folk he can spare.”

Frodo smiled. And he sang

“Key and home and lock and latch.   
against the foe, we light the match.  
Unwanted they come and our land they take  
fear! fire! foes! Hobbits awake awake!”

“Well, we’re definitely awake now Mister Baggins, with how loud you just got there.” said the Gaffer.

*

The next news to reach Frodo was not good. Merry, who had been out all night, came riding in about ten o'clock. “There's a big band about four miles away,” he said. 

'They're coming along the road from Waymeet, but a good many stray ruffians have joined up with them. There must be close on a hundred of them; and they're fire-raising as they come. Curse them!”

“Ah! This lot won't stay to talk, they'll kill, if they can,' said Farmer Cotton. 'If Tooks don't come sooner, we'd best get behind cover and shoot without arguing. There's got to be some fighting before this is settled, Mr. Frodo.” 

* * *

 

Frodo and the Cottons weren’t the only ones concerned with superior numbers. Using a wheelbarrow and pushing it with his feet and gliding down any hills bent and with his feet lifted and Lotho leaning against the front for extra lift, Smeagol and Lotho were speeding for the Lockholes

“Hang on.’ Lotho had said when the found that the third sharp corner forced them to stop and hop out to turn. “If you pass me a broom you can pushed and when I say ‘up’ I’ll use the brush to corner us so we can keep our speed up.”

“When did you start being able to think mr stupid head?” Smeagol asked.

“When I realised my ma is in lock holes and has been underfed the whole time. I though even more the third time we nearly hit a wall.”

“Nearly is a good word,” said Smeagol conceding the point about Lotho worrying about Lobelia.

“It is?” queried a confused Lotho.

“Yes you silly Hobbit, if we head towards a wall really fast and we don’t ‘nearly’ hit it what is happening?”

“Splat.” said Lotho getting the hint. “And now you’ve explained it, an we go rescue my ma?”

It was about two hours later that they were at the Prisons. A few of Saruman’s men were on guard and Lotho shrunk back. Smeagol stepped back too.

“How are you going to sneak in?” 

Smeagol gave Lotho a withering look and then whispering sharply, accentuating each point with a deep poke into Lotho’s chest, said. “You are going to sneak in Loho Pimple, because it’s your mother inside. I was sent to rescue you which means I could have gone away after stowing you away somewhere safe.”

“But my am is in there.”

“Then find out a way to get her out. Your ma. Your job. Got’s that?”

Lotho stood, staring. Then he clenched his jaw and nodded. 

“Then when you have got her out bring everyone to Farmer Cotton’s but stay out of sight and travel quick and quiet.”

“I understand.”

“Good then. Smeagol will see you back there, Bye bye.” 

Lotho watched as his strange gangrel companion and rescuer faded into the shadows. After a few seconds, he muttered “Smeagol?” But he had no answer.

 

*

 

Fredregar Bulger was confused. The guard had been taunting him about how the Shire had risen in rebellion and Sharkey’s men’ had responded by setting it on fire. he refused to answer the taunts. Each time the man disappeared, he spoke, keeping the other prisoners from despair. At least he tried to but what he got was moans and denials. 

I can’t really blame them he thought, as much as I say we’ll get through these we’ve all been here so long it doesn’t look possible. 

A pair of old Hobbit eyes watched him slump and narrowed as their owner saw him slump in defeat.

“And just what do you think you’re doing lying down when you’re supposed to be talking and giving us all hope eh? eh?”

Fredregar bristled at the tone. “I’m not taking that form the Hobbit whose son caused this mess.”

“Oh? You think I like having been carried off by ruffians because my Lotho was a sparrow wit?” Lobelia Sackville Baggins’ voice was sharp. “Sure I can’t be all inspiring and that but you mark my word, I’ve been listening and not talking cause you were doing a good job. And if the Shire’s in trouble and mark my word, you and I both know how much it is.”

“So good a job, most of us in here are giving up.” Fredregar muttered

“Idiot!” Lobelia hissed. “Halfwit!”

“Just a minute you-”

Lobelia didn’t pause. The ailing Hobbit drew herself up and glared straight at him. “How many did you think gave up before you got here. How many more were giving up before you kept on at them? Most o’ them that’s how many. and if the sire;s alight, then them men’s afeared of us. Can’t take us on so they light things up.”

Freddy stood and straightened up. “So tell me your plan for getting out of here then.” 

“Ain't got one.”

“Then we hang on. This’ll be other either way soon enough so we hang on and we hope our lads are sturdy enough. Maybe it’s time to go ‘Bilbo’ one em.”

Lobelia sighed but added. “I can’t see that hurting this time.”

 

*

Unknown to Lobelia her, son was standing outside the gaol whimpering. His only ally had disappeared. But his mother was in there in who knew what state. he slowly realised he had no choice .

He moved agonisingly slowly a she slid into the shadowy corners and watched the men come and go. he eventually counted six in total and the fifth one was the one that interested him most; He had keys on his belt.

He counted their passing, with each second like minute to him, Each minute like an hour. And whilst he would not have appreciated being told it he was currently in a situation that echoed Bilbo when the Dwarfs had been ensnared by spiders.

And that’s when he remembered that story. Tedious as it was to have have listened to Bilbo Baggins tell it again and again and again for the first five years after his return. 

Lotho shuddered. There a jaunty little tune that wa reputed to have come from the Elves the Elves. Lotho had heard that too and had decided that he could quite happily throttle the pointy eared twit who had written ‘The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins: The bravest little Hobbit from the Shire.’

But there was time to rant about that later. For now, he slipped past watching eyes for even he was stealthier than Saruman’s men and found himself a bag into which he placed ten nice round stones.

Slipping away once more he found a wheelbarrow to hide behind. And as one of the swaggering men passed by, Lotho pitched a rock and it hit the man hard enough to drop him where he was. With a dull thump he hit the ground and Lotho scrambled past him. 

The next man Lotho dropped slid against the side of the Guard house that had been built and knocked over a whole pile of kindling with a loud clatter.

Lights flared up near by as the men lit lanterns and torches and started searching the area. The third man fell unconscious as Lothos gave on on stealth and simply hurled the next stone straight at him.

Remembering what he had oh so very recently learned, the terrified Lotho zipped down an alleyway. Unfortunately. The men did not fall for it and they were smart enough to duck when Lotho threw stones at them.

“Come out little little Pimple, and we’ll only thrash you one time each before locking you up… but make us wade through this uck on anight like this to get you and we we won’t stop until the sun rises.”

“Better not let you catch me before cock crow then had I?” Lotho blinked as soon as he said it amazed at his own bravado. He was also amazed at his own stupidity for giving away where he was..

The man nearest to him stepped over a fallen broom that was in front of a puddle. As he foot landed in the puddle, he wrenched it back and fell over clutching his foot. Lotho saw the water was red and that the man’s shoe was also red.

Lotho threw two stones, one at the man on the ground. He stopped yelling as he slumped, and the second one charged him, The next stone flew true and he too dropped. 

But it had cost Lotho precious time and the final man caught him and warped large shovel like hands around the less than sturdy hobbit’s throat and began squeezing.

“This should learn the rest of you uppity little blighters to know their place! Time to squeeze a Pimple.” It looked like the end of Lotho... until a snarling hissing form hurtled into the Man and vice like fingers grasped him around the throat.

“Nasssty mans oh yes. Murder he tries. Never again!”

The would be murderer fumbled at the steely fingers around his own throat but no matter what he tried he could not dislodge Smeagol, who had broken Uruk Hai in his past.

As Smeagol dropped the man, Lotho massaged his own neck, gulping for air. “I thought you’d gone!”

“I told you, this was your job.”

“But you.. killed that man.”

“Him or you, mr Pimple.”

Lotho looked down at the piles of garbage, pieces of metal glinting here and there, and the light of purposefully set arson glowing a baleful red through the night and he staggered out.

“This is on me isn’t it? I brought them here and started all this.”

“Oh, stop whining. I had to climb up a big fiery mountain and that was after being stuck in a mine that had a Balrog in it. So, shut your whinging and get on with it!”

“But everybody is going to hate me.”

“From what Sam Gamgee and Merry Brandybuck told me, that won’t be a big change to normal.”

*

The prison had gone quiet for the denizens had heard the commotion and many Hobbits had frozen at the name ‘Pimple’ realising who was out there and Lobelia was shaking.

Fredregar looked at her. “Don’t give up. I can hear voices out there. One o’ then is Lotho’s.

Lobelia blinked though still holding on hard to the rails of her cell door. “Lotho..” she whispered her heart racing.

“Yeah Ma, it’s me. i’m here to get you out.” Lotho Pimple stepped into view, wet, bedraggled, nerve wracked and drenched. he took the key ring and set about it until he had her door unlocked. She embraced him fiercely and went to retrieve her umbrella. The first thing she did was hit Lothon in the head with it and berate him for letting this happen. “Idiot! imbecile! I told you not to go getting mixed up in foreign strangeness. How many times. did I warn you!”

“I’m sorry ma, I’ll make it right.”

Freddy glared at him, not forgiving Lotho yet but nodding that he’d come to let them out and stepped forward. He immediately stepped backwards as two wide eyes gazed at him. He slammed his cell door back shut and stared wide eyed. 

“I know you!” He pointed at Smeagol and said, ‘You’re Gollum from Bilbo’s stories!”

Every hobbit there stared at Smeagol now. Lobelia looked at him. “Are you the want that tried to eat Bilbo?”  
Smeagol blinked at the candid question and lts gasp went up around them.

“Um, yes? But I’ve changed.”

“But if you had eaten Bilbo, he wouldn’t have gotten the Shire noticed by furriners?

“No, he wouldn’t have.” said a nonplussed Smeagol.

“Then this is your fault too.” and she promptly stamped on his foot.

Fredregar overcame his fear after seeing this and said “See lads and lasses, I said we’d get out of this. Now, who;s with me to take back the shire!?”

And the roar of over a hundred freed and angry Hobbits shook the building.

After while, with much gawping in Smeagol’s direction and jumpy Hobbits, Lotho advised that they head to Farmer Cotton to link up with Frodo.

“Just wonderful,’ said Lobelia. ‘Another brain boggled Baggins to deal with.

“Mr Frodo is smart and has travelled.”

“Who asked you your opinion, fish face?”

“Who asked yours, cream curdler?”

“Garbage stench.”

“Spoony Hobbit.”

Lobelia smiled tightly as she got the reference. Somehow, as the liberated Hobbs filed out, she ‘accidentally’ stabbed Smeagol in the ankle,

 

* * *

 

The Tooks did come sooner. Before long they marched in, a hundred strong, from Tuckborough and the Green Hills with Pippin at their head. Merry now had enough sturdy hobbitry to deal with the ruffians. Scouts reported that they were keeping close together. They knew that the countryside had risen against them, and plainly meant to deal with the rebellion ruthlessly, at its centre in Bywater. But however grim they, might be, they seemed to have no leader among them who understood warfare. They came on without any precautions. 

*

They didn’t know it but another group of ruffians was having problems with a rag tag bunch of fired up Hobbits. 

“Get here you little vermin!” shouted one ruffian as he made for Lobelia, thinking her easy pickings. Her Umbrella in his shins disproved that notion and even as he tried to recovered smeagol dropped on his head.

Fredregar gave the order he’d been giving as his bunch advanced through the shire. “Scatter and then regroup. Those of you furthest away, stones at heads!”

They did as orders and ruffians had their legs pulled from under them, as Smeagol had advised, his game in the Fall leaves on his way to the Shire, serving him well.

The second time a ruffian tried to seize Smeagol, Lobelia brought up her umbrella in her face, snapping it open and then spinning it so that the hooks would scratch then. The other ruffian trying (Badly) to sneak up behind her found that she was holding it loosely enough so that she could use her first hand to slam it backwards like staff. 

Smeagol followed followed this up by leap frogging Lotho who, as terrified as he was was guarding his enraged mother as best he could. Hands on Lotho’s shoulders he launched himself up and over and slammed both feet into the first ruffians face and he went down on his rump, Lobelia kicked him in the shins.

Smeagol helped Lobelia on as she stumbled and end up close in with both hands on his bared wiry chest, to support herself. At least, that was what she going to claim. Smeagol wasn’t complaining.

The Hobbits bound their prisoners and moved on. With a little snickering here and there.

 

* * *. 

 

Merry laid his plans for a defense at Farmer Cotton’s quickly. The ruffians came tramping along the East Road, and without halting turned up the Bywater Road, which ran for some way sloping up between high banks with low hedges on top. 

Round a bend, about a furlong from the main road, they met a stout barrier of old farm-carts upturned. That halted them. At the same moment they became aware that the hedges on both sides, just above their heads, were all lined with hobbits. Behind them other hobbits now pushed out some more waggons that had been hidden in a field, and so blocked the way back. A voice spoke to them from above. 

“Well, you have walked into a trap,' said Merry. 'Your fellows from Hobbiton did the same, and one is dead and the rest are prisoners. Lay down your weapons! Then go back twenty paces and sit down. Any who try to break out will be shot.” 

But the ruffians could not now be cowed so easily. A few of them obeyed, but were immediately set on by their fellows. A score or more broke back and charged the waggons. Six were shot, but the remainder burst out, killing two hobbits, and then scattering across country in the direction of the Woody End. Two more fell as they ran. Merry blew a loud horn-call, and there were answering calls from a distance. 

“They won't get far,' said Pippin. 'All that country is alive with our hunters now.” 

Behind, the trapped Men in the lane, still about four score, tried to climb the barrier and the banks, and the hobbits were obliged to shoot many of them or hew them with axes. But many of the strongest and most desperate got out on the west side, and attacked their enemies fiercely, being now more bent on killing than escaping. 

Several hobbits fell, and the rest were wavering, when Merry and Pippin, who were on the east side, came across and charged the ruffians. Merry himself slew the leader, a great squint-eyed brute like a huge orc. Even then it looked like many would break through until a hail of stones rained down on the ruffians breaking their resolve. The liberated Hobbits had arrived.

Then Merry drew his forces off, encircling the last remnant of the Men in a wide ring of archers. At last all was over. Nearly seventy of the ruffians lay dead on the field, and a dozen were prisoners. Nineteen hobbits were killed, and some thirty were wounded. 

The dead ruffians were laden on waggons and hauled off to an old sand-pit nearby and there buried: in the Battle Pit, as it was afterwards called. The fallen hobbits were laid together in a grave on the hill-side, where later a great stone was set up with a garden about it. So ended the Battle of Bywater, 1419, the last battle fought in the Shire, and the only battle since the Greenfields, 1147, away up in the Northfarthing. In consequence, though it happily cost very few lives, it has a chapter to itself in the Red Book, and the names of all those who took part were made into a Roll, and learned by heart by Shire-historians. 

The very considerable rise in the fame and fortune of the Cottons dates from this time; but at the top of the Roll in all accounts stand the names of Captains Meriadoc and Peregrin. Frodo had been in the battle, but he had not drawn sword, and his chief part had been to prevent the hobbits in their wrath at their losses, from slaying those of their enemies who threw down their weapons. When the fighting was over, and the later labours were ordered, Merry, Pippin, and Sam joined him, and they rode back with the Cottons. 

Even the restoration what little good name Lotho and the Sackville-Baggins had ever had began to climb from the gutter. And to her utmost surprise many Hobbits chanted her name and she had to sit down, Overwhelmed.

*

“Hello Lobelia.” Fro sat next to his relative. “I can see you’re exhausting yourself. You won’t see the night through if you don’t get some warmth and sustenance. Merry!”

“Yes Frodo? came the reply. ‘What is it?”

“Give Lobelia some draught would you?”

Merry produced the fine drink and assisted Lobelia , keeping his expression neutral. he didn’t like her but if what he had heard was true, then he had to respect her determination. besides what he had just seen seemed to bare the story out. when he stood up he walked straight and shoulder bared Lotho (mildly for Loelia;s sake) to make a point.

There many Hobbits though wanted to shake Lotho and even after his deeds of the night were described, their hostility only softened partially.

Farmer Cotton took Lobelia in that evening but not before she had some words for Frodo. “You promise to deal with that Sharkey?”

“I promise Lobelia.”

“Right then, Lotho and I will stay here and Lotho can help on cleanup duty.”

“But ma, I’ve never done anything like that before.”

Smeagol clasped him on the shoulder“You’ve never done many things that you did tonight before but you learn fast. You can learn this…” Then he turned to go but felt a small feminine hand on his.

“Thank you for saving my Lotho and thank you for saving me. when this is over, come find me and I can teach you how not to be a smelly, lisping badly clothed furrin looking fellow.”

“Smeagol will, and he will bring you a juicy fish for supper.” 

 

* * *

They ate a late midday meal, and then Frodo said with a sigh: 'Well, I suppose it is time now that we dealt with the “Chief”.' 

“Yes indeed; the sooner the better,' said Merry. 'And don't be too gentle! He's responsible for bringing in these ruffians, and for all the evil they have done.” Farmer Cotton collected an escort of some two dozen sturdy hobbits. 

Fredregar was invited along for he had twice now proven stouthearted, once nearly a year ago when he had delayed the Ringwraiths in their pursuit of Frodo and now when he had been imprisoned.

“Then your leadership will be of great help to Farmer Cotton thought I would deem it wise to keep Lotho away from public viewing for now.

Farmer Cotton said. “We can kill two birds with one stone there Mr. Baggins. Lobelia can help with gentle domestic chores and Lotho can clean up and ame firewood, and choice about it he won’t be avin.”

“Lobelia?” Frodo asked.

She simply nodded. 

“Right then.” said Merry at that checking the stoutness of the escort Famer Cotton ahd provided. ‘we should keep our wits about us, for it's only a guess that there is no ruffians left at Bag End. And even if it only Saruman, we’ve seen the harm he can do.”  
Then they set out on foot. Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin led the way. . It was one of the saddest hours in their lives. The great chimney rose up before them; and as they drew near the old village across the Water, through rows of new mean houses along each side of the road, they saw the new mill in all its frowning and dirty ugliness: a great brick building straddling the stream, which it fouled with a steaming and stinking overflow. 

All along the Bywater Road every tree had been felled. As they crossed the bridge and looked up the Hill they gasped. Even Sam's vision in the Mirror had not prepared him for what they saw. The Old Grange on the west side had been knocked down, and its place taken by rows of tarred sheds. All the chestnuts were gone. The banks and hedgerows were broken. Great waggons were standing in disorder in a field beaten bare of grass. Bagshot Row was a yawning sand and gravel quarry. Bag End up. beyond could not be seen for a clutter of large huts. 

'They've cut it down!' cried Sam. 'They've cut down the Party Tree!' He pointed to where the tree. had stood under which Bilbo had made his Farewell Speech. It was lying lopped and dead in the field. As if this was the last straw Sam burst into tears. A laugh put an end to them. There was a surly hobbit lounging over the low wall of the mill-yard. He was grimy-faced and black-handed. 

“Don't 'ee like it, Sam?' he sneered. 'But you always was soft. I thought you'd gone off in one o' them ships you used to prattle about, sailing, sailing. What d'you want to come back for? We've work to do in the Shire now.” 

“So I see,' said Sam. 'No time for washing, but time for wall-propping. But see here, Master Sandyman, I've a score to pay in this village, and don't you make it any longer with your jeering, or you'll foot a bill too big for your purse.”

Ted Sandyman spat over the wall. “Garn!' he said. 'You can't touch me. I'm a friend o' the Boss's. But he'll touch you all right, if I have any more of your mouth.” 

“Don't waste any more words on the fool, Sam!' said Frodo. 'I hope there are not many more hobbits that have become like this. It would be a worse trouble than all the damage the Men have done.” 

“You are dirty and insolent, Sandyman,' said Merry. 'And also very much out of your reckoning. We are just going up the Hill to remove your precious Boss. We have dealt with his Men.” 

Ted gaped, for at that moment he first caught sight of the escort that at a sign from Merry now marched over the bridge. Dashing back into the mill he ran out with a horn and blew it loudly. 

'Save your breath!' laughed Merry. 'I've a better.' Then lifting up his silver horn he winded it, and its clear call rang over the Hill; and out of the holes and sheds and shabby houses of Hobbiton the hobbits answered, and came pouring out, and with cheers and loud cries they followed the company up the road to Bag End. 

Frodo called for a halt and took Smeagol aside/ “what can you tell us before we get there, I should have this earlier but I was too fired up but there is time now.”

Smeagol answered. “It was piled high with refuse and the insides stank, mr Lotho barely got out. but then we went and got al the Hobbits in bad holes out and we beat lots of bad men and now there are very few left in the Shire. 

“I see. be ready my friends.”

At the top of the lane the party halted, and Frodo and his friends went on; and they came at last to the once beloved place. The garden was full of huts and sheds, some so near the old westward windows that they cut off all their light. There were piles of refuse everywhere. The door was scarred; the bell-chain was dangling loose, and the bell would not ring. Knocking brought no answer. 

At length they pushed and the door yielded. They went in. The place indeed stank and was full of filth and disorder: It appeared to be deserted.

“Shall we turn on the others to search the sheds?' Pippin asked.

“This is worse than Mordor!' said Sam. 'Much worse in a way. It comes home to you, as they say; because it is home, and you remember it before it was all ruined.”

“Yes, this is Mordor,' said Frodo. 'Just one of its works. Saruman was doing its work all the time, even when he thought he was working for himself. And the same with those that Saruman tricked, like Lotho.”

Merry looked round in dismay and disgust. 'Let's get out!' he said. 'If I had known all the mischief he had caused, I should have stuffed my pouch down Saruman's throat.”

“No doubt, no doubt! But you did not, and so I am able to welcome you home.” There standing at the door was Saruman himself, looking well-fed and well-pleased; his eyes gleamed with malice and amusement. 

Smeagol felt rage boil up inside him. He had warned this man not to come near where he would be again and he had done this? He looked at the others for guidance and in a way seeing their turmoil felt better for he could see that their rage was the same as his.

Saruman laughed. “Evidently you did not expect to see me here. but after what happened earlier with your pet ‘I’ the other night I expected you.”

Frodo. “I would not have guessed. But Merry is a mark of Rohan and well do the Rohirrim know your treachery. A little mischief in a mean way: Gandalf warned me that you were still capable of it.”

“Quite capable,' said Saruman, 'and more than a little. You made me laugh, you hobbit-lordlings, riding along with all those great people so secure and so pleased with your little selves. You thought you had done very well out of it all, and could now just amble back and have a nice quiet time in the country. Saruman's home could be all wrecked, and he could be turned out, but no one could touch yours. And when that filthy little Stoor threatened me I redoubled my efforts!” 

Saruman laughed again. ' And You proabbly asked Gandalf to aid you bt oh no, not he! When his tools have done their task he drops them. But you must go dangling after him, dawdling and talking, and riding round twice as far as you needed. “Well,” thought I, “if they're such fools, I will get ahead of them and teach them a lesson. One ill turn deserves another.” It would have been a sharper lesson, if only you had given me a little more time and more men. Still I have already done much that you will find it hard to mend or undo in your lives. And it will be pleasant to think of that and set it against my injuries.” 

“Well, if that is what you find pleasure in,' said Frodo, 'I pity you. It will be a pleasure of memory only, I fear. Go at once and never return!” 

The hobbits of the villages had seen Saruman come out of one of the huts, and at once they came crowding up to the door of Bag End. When they heard Frodo's command, they murmured angrily: 'Don't let him go! Kill him! He's a villain and a murderer. Kill him!” 

Saruman looked round at their hostile faces and smiled. 'Kill him!' he mocked. 'Kill him, if you think there are enough of you, my brave hobbits!' 

He drew himself up and stared at them darkly with his black eyes. “But do not think that when I lost all my goods I lost all my power! Whoever strikes me shall be accursed. And if my blood stains the Shire, it shall wither and never again be healed.” 

The hobbits recoiled. But Frodo said: “Do not believe him! He has lost all power, save his voice that can still daunt you and deceive you, if you let it. But I will not have him slain. It is useless to meet revenge with revenge: it will heal nothing. Go, Saruman, by the speediest way!” 

“Worm! Worm!' Saruman called; and out of a nearby hut came Wormtongue, crawling, almost like a dog. To the road again, Worm!' said Saruman. 'These fine fellows and lordlings are turning us adrift again. Come along!” 

Saruman turned to go, and Wormtongue shuffled after him. But even as Saruman passed close to Frodo a knife flashed in his hand, and he stabbed swiftly. The blade turned on the hidden mail-coat and snapped. A dozen hobbits, led by Sam, leaped forward with a cry and flung the villain to the ground. Sam drew his sword even as Smeagol readied to spring

“No!' said Frodo. 'Do not kill him even now. For he has not hurt me. And in any case I do not wish him to be slain in this evil mood. He was great once, of a noble kind that we should not dare to raise our hands against. He is fallen, and his cure is beyond us; but I would still spare him, in the hope that he may find it.” 

Saruman rose to his feet, and stared at Frodo. There was a strange look in his eyes of mingled wonder and respect and hatred. “You have grown, Halfling,' he said. 'Yes, you have grown very much. You are wise, and cruel. You have robbed my revenge of sweetness, and now I must go hence in bitterness, in debt to your mercy. I hate it and you! Well, I go and I will trouble you no more. But do not expect me to wish you health and long life. You will have neither. But that is not my doing. I merely foretell.” 

He walked away, and the hobbits made a lane for him to pass; but their knuckles whitened as they gripped on their weapons. Wormtongue hesitated, and then followed his master. 

“Wormtongue!' called Frodo. 'You need not follow him. I know of no evil you have done to me. You can have rest and food here for a while, until you are stronger and can go your own ways.”

Saruman sneered. “After all this time do you ral believe that you can salvage such a ruined pitiable creature who corrupted himself through his own base desire. and saw never the taint of Ring or spell?”

“Yes.” Merry’s voice rose above all and he held Grima Wormtongue in his gaze. Throwing back his cloak he revealed the sign of Rohan upon it. “Smeagol returned to us.”

“Only with Galadriel’s meddling and how many times has he almost returned to his fell ways?”

“ Five.” said Smeagol himself “when fighting your evil. But I came back every time.”

“Do you hear that Grima, man of Rohan? Once your king, Theoden, asked you to return home and hal and repent your evil. Did you ever love him? If so, find the strength you once had and remove yourself from this snake!”

“Where would I go?” Wormtongue wailed. ‘The Shire is not home and Rohan is itself lost to me now!”

“Yet here is Rohan, in front of you, asking you one last time to remember whom you serve.”

Grima knew his grievous error and looking at Smeagol saw a chance. For if ‘Gollum’ could be salvaged, could not he? Slowly his hand reached for Merry’s as hope long lost rekindled.  
There was a blur of motion and before anyone could move a knife was held to Grima’s throat by Saruman as he gloated. “Poor Grima, thought he could go back but if I can;t have my pet then no one shall!”

Grima held the knife away from his throat with extreme effort but it was long enough that Merry blew the Horn of Rohan and with that last help, Grima pulled free, collapsing unconscious from the effort but alive.

Before Frodo could recover or speak a word, Smeagol leaped and slit Saruman’s throat, hurling Wormtongue towards Merry. 

About the body of Saruman a grey mist gathered, and rising slowly to a great height like smoke from a fire, as a pale shrouded figure it loomed over the Hill. For a moment it wavered, looking to the West; but out of the West came a cold wind, and it bent away, and with a sigh dissolved into nothing. 

Frodo looked down at the body with pity and horror, for as he looked it seemed that long years of death were suddenly revealed in it, and it shrank, and the shrivelled face became rags of skin upon a hideous skull. Lifting up the skirt of the dirty cloak that sprawled beside it, he covered it over, and turned away. 

“And that's the end of that,' said Sam. 'A nasty end, and I wish I needn't have seen it; but it's a good riddance.”

“And the very last end of the War, I hope,” said Merry. 

“I hope so,' said Frodo and sighed. 'The very last stroke. But to think that it should fall here, at the very door of Bag End! Among all my hopes and fears at least I never expected that.” 

'I shan't call it the end, till we've cleared up the mess,' said Sam gloomily. 'And that'll take a lot of time and work.”   
*


	14. Many Departures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the end of an era and those who belonged to the previous ages are heading onwards and leaving their world in good hands.

Chapter 14

Many Departures

The task of hunting out the last remnant of the ruffians was left to Merry and Pippin, and they made Smeagol their lead tracker. The oldest Tooks could occasionally keep up with him and it was soon done. 

The southern gangs, after hearing the news of the Battle of Bywater, fled out of the land and offered little resistance to the Thain. Before the Year's End the few survivors were rounded up in the woods, and those that surrendered were shown to the borders. 

Meanwhile the labour of repair went on apace, and Sam was kept very busy. Hobbits can work like bees when the mood and the need comes on them. Now there were thousands of willing hands of all ages, from the small but nimble ones of the hobbit lads and lasses to the well-worn and horny ones of the gaffers and gammers. 

Grima the exile worked alongside them, for he had promised Merry that he would repair his fealty and as Merry was the representative of Eomer, he was the only one he could correctly serve for now.

Merry was harsh but fair an Grima found himself tasked where he could reach where Hobbit lads and lasses could not. Before Yule not a brick was left standing of the new Shirriff-houses or of anything that had been built by 'Sharkey's Men'. 

The bricks were used to repair many an old hole, to make it snugger and drier. Great stores of goods and food, and beer, were found that had been hidden away by the ruffians in sheds and barns and deserted holes, and especially in the tunnels at Michel Delving and in the old quarries at Scary. 

Lotho Pimple worked as hard as any other Hobbit and other time, gained more acceptance, finally repairing his reputation when he used what little fortune he left to have houses built for the oldest Hobbits that had lost their to Saruman. And whilst unpopular with Hobbits he at least had Grima as a drinking partner.

That Yule brought a greatly increased mood across the Shire for there was a great deal better cheer than anyone had hoped for. One of the first things done in Hobbiton, before even the removal of the new mill, was the clearing of the Hill and Bag End, and the restoration of Bagshot Row. 

Smeagol was staying in Bag End but even during the winter months he prefered to dress with his fisher jacket unzipped and hanging loose, mostly because of the unabashed stare she got from the populace. The menfolk tended to grumble and talk about how the Baggins carried insanity like a cold.

The womenfolk of the shire were mixed in their receptions. Many younger and more daring Hobbit lasses sneaked a glance at this strange wiry Hobbit, and often flushed when they did, quickly snapping open fans and retreating behind them.

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins would however walk straight up and start insulting him. Grinning, Smeagol returned fire, all the way. It seemed to Samwise Gamgee that it was the beginning of a fine romance.

 

Saruman’s new sand-pit was all levelled and made into a large sheltered garden, where most of the work was done by Lotho and Grima in pretty much the one place they never experienced harassment as this was not only their penance but restoration of Ba End itself.

New holes were dug in the southward face, back into the Hill, and they were lined with brick. The Gaffer was restored to Number Three and he said often and did not care who heard it: 'It's an ill wind as blows nobody no good, as I always say, ‘And All's well as ends Better!' 

There was some discussion of the name that the new row should be given. Battle Gardens was thought of, or Better Smials. But after a while in sensible hobbit-fashion it was just called New Row. It was a purely Bywater joke to refer to it as Sharkey's End. 

The trees were the worst loss and damage, for at Sharkey's bidding they had been cut down recklessly far and wide over the Shire; and Sam grieved over this more than anything else. For one thing, this hurt would take long to heal, and only his great-grandchildren, he thought, would see the Shire as it ought to be. 

Then suddenly one day, for he had been too busy for weeks to give a thought to his adventures, he remembered the gift of Galadriel. He brought the box out and showed it to the other Travellers (for so they were now called by everyone), and asked their advice. 

“I wondered when you would think of it,' said Frodo. 'Open it!' 

“If you were wondering when he would think of it, why didn’t you ask him sooner?” Asked Smeagol.

“I wanted him to think of it for himself.”

“Nice one, ‘Gandalf’. said Pippin.

Sam chuckled at that and opened the box. Inside it was filled with a grey dust, soft and fine, in the middle of which was a seed, like a small nut with a silver shale. 

'What can I do with this?' said Sam. 

'Throw it in the air on a breezy day and let it do its work!' said Pippin. 

'On what?' said Sam. 

“On the Shire, silly.”

“Thank you for those words of wisdom Smeagol.”

Merry shook his head but said, 'Choose one spot as a nursery, and see what happens to the plants there.” 

“But I'm sure the Lady would not like me to keep it all for my own garden, now so many folk have suffered,' said Sam. 

“Use all the wits and knowledge you have of your own, Sam,' said Frodo, 'and then use the gift to help your work and better it. And use it sparingly. There is not much here, and I expect every grain has a value.” 

So Sam planted saplings in all the places where specially beautiful or beloved trees had been destroyed, and he put a grain of the precious dust in the soil at the root of each. He went up and down the Shire in this labour; but if he paid special attention to Hobbiton and Bywater no one blamed him. And at the end he found that he still had a little of the dust left; 

So he went to the Three-Farthing Stone, which is as near the centre of the Shire as no matter, and cast it in the air with his blessing the little silver nut he planted in the Party Field where the tree had once been; and he wondered what would come of it. Smeagol placed his own hands on it and said. ‘if any blessing of the lady still lies with me, Smeagol wishes to put it all in the Shire. I’m my own Hobbit now and it’s time to make my own way.”

Then winter arrived and Smeagol found himself learning the joys of Shire culture though he only ate half as much as other Hobbits. At least until Lobelia called him all sorts of names whilst offering him chocolate biscuits and chocolate bars. When he found her biscuit tin he emptied it. When he found Frodo’s tin, he emptied that too.

This came to light when a visitor to Frodo who had come all the way from Bree to deliver a letter from Aragon (the contents of which had Frodo highly amused)

“He nabbed my cookee jar!”

“Cookie jar?” Frodo queried a tad nonplussed. 

The Breelander opened his mouth then remembered that whilst related and sharing much common history the Shire folk were bit quaint and had some differences including language ones like’ Pavement’ instead of ‘Sidewalk’ and  
‘Terraced House’ instead of ‘Townhouse’. 

He searched his memory then and recalled that the shire said ‘Biscuit’ instead of cookie. “Alright! Biscuit Jar.”

Frodo sighed and later that evening told smeagol to go and work in the new confectioners, The idea was for Frodo to pay the excess consumption until Smeagol got sick of snaffling the goodies. The confectioner fired Smeagol after three weeks and nearly going bankrupt.

A tad unpopular in Hobbiton due to this habit, smeagol moped his way to Lobelia who left her biscuit tin in plainsight, unguarded and smelling of the thin dark chocolate wafers that Smeagol knew had a lovely cream filling.

“Well fish face, no stealing the biccies! Got it?!”

“Yes Troll features. I gots it.”

Lobelia stepped out to go shopping but as soon as soon as she closed her door she sidestepped to the right and clambered up onto her porch roof and started counting. At the count of ten she heard a startled yelp followed by much cursing. Many words she didn’t know like the elven or the defunct Uruk hai ones but she recognised the feeling and emphasis.  
She turned her umbrella upside down and rapped on her own door. When Smeagol answered, she whacked him on the head and snarled “Stop stealing the biscuits Baggins Brains!”

“You can’t say that. You have no proofs!” smeagol gestured empahatcialy in his denial. Unfortunately for him this was his downfall as his right hand came up with the mouse trap that was making him curse still attached. 

Lobelia smiled unpleasantly at her quarry but when he bowed his head and flushed she relented a little. “You can’t keep doing this smeagol.”

“But I am smart and resourceful!”

“Yes, but every Hobbit has their own sort of trap by now.”

Thus did Peregrin Took’s book of ‘Anti biscuit snaffler; traps come to be compiled and this list is noted in a different volume.

And after a month of these deterrents, Lobelia took her umbrella everywhere so as to deflect any and all incoming hurled fish. She became very good at it, inspired Frodo Baggins wrote ‘that after three fish had smacked her in the face, my rather rough edged yet now compassionate charity aiding relative, became aware that a biscuit-less Smeagol planned to maintain his barrages, one for each trap he found. 

‘We called it the ‘Umbrella fish war’ and it lightened up everyone else’s mood considerably: Even mine. Smeagol eventually found employment as a professional tracker with the Tooks full time and I adopted him. I wonder what 1420 will bring.

 

* * *

 

All through the winter Samwise Gamgee remained as patient as he could, and tried to restrain himself from going round constantly to see if anything was happening. Spring surpassed his wildest hopes. His trees began to sprout and grow, as if time was in a hurry and wished to make one year do for twenty. 

In the Party Field a beautiful young sapling leaped up: it had silver bark and long leaves and burst into golden flowers in April. It was indeed a mallorn, and it was the wonder of the neighbourhood. In after years, as it grew in grace and beauty, it was known far and wide and people would come long journeys to see it: the only mallorn west of the Mountains and east of the Sea, and one of the finest in the world. 

Altogether 1420 in the Shire was a marvellous year. Not only was there wonderful sunshine and delicious rain, in due times and perfect measure, but there seemed something more: an air of richness and growth, and a gleam of a beauty beyond that of mortal summers that flicker and pass upon this Middle-earth. All the children born or begotten in that year, and there were many, were fair to see and strong, and most of them had a rich golden hair that had before been rare among hobbits. The fruit was so plentiful that young hobbits very nearly bathed in strawberries and cream; and later they sat on the lawns under the plum-trees and ate, until they had made piles of stones like small pyramids or the heaped skulls of a conqueror, and then they moved on. And no one was ill, and everyone was pleased. except those who had to mow the grass. 

In the Southfarthing the vines were laden, and the yield of 'leaf' was astonishing; and everywhere there was so much corn that at Harvest every barn was stuffed. 'The Northfarthing barley was so fine that the beer of 1420 malt was long remembered and became a byword. Indeed a generation later one might hear an old gaffer in an inn, after a good pint of well-earned ale, put down his mug with a sigh: 'Ah! that was proper fourteen-twenty, that was!' Sam stayed at first at the Cottons' with Frodo; but when the New Row was ready he went with the Gaffer. 

Smeagol moved out of Bag End completely at the start of 1420 and on a picnic under the Mallorn tree, He proposed to Lobelia and she accepted.

“I’m very happy for you both Smeagol,’ said Frodo, ‘But why are you standing there hiding your hands behind your back, hm?

Smeagol held up his left hand and his fourth finger had a ring on it.

Frodo threw up his hands and made a face of mock horror and then with a sly grin said’ “Oh no, here we go again.” 

* * *

The news of Smeagol and Lobelia’s engagement spread fast.

“Hmph, seems like that weird feral gangrel Hobbit is getting married!

“To that Smeagol fellow no less!”

At the Green Dragon: “I hear young Baggins has finally gone the way of that uncle o’ his, Every time that Smeagol goes near him he clutches his right hand and goes ‘Arg nooo. take it away, No more rings, not more rings!” 

“Aye and then him and that Smeagol hug each other and laugh their heads off!”

“I Wish Lobelia could knock some sense into them both!”

The other Hobbit raised an eyebrow then said. “You’re siding with Lobelia now?”

The first speaker threw his hands in mock horror and said “Quick, I need another pint!”

* * *

*

 

Sam had In addition to all his other labours the directing of the cleaning up and restoring of Bag End; but he was often away in the Shire on his forestry work. So he was not at home in early March and did not know that Frodo had been ill. 

On the thirteenth of that month Farmer Cotton found Frodo lying on his bed; he was clutching a white gem that hung on a chain about his neck and he seemed half in a dream. 'It is gone forever,' he said, 'and now all is dark and empty.' 

Across the Shire, Smeagol was tossing and turning in his own bed with Lobelia wetting his fevered brow. But the fit passed and Smeagol would not discuss it.

At bag End, when Sam got back on the twenty-fifth, Frodo had also recovered, and he said nothing about himself. Neither he nor Smeagol mad ring pranks ever again. 

Meanwhile Bag End had been set in order, and Merry and Pippin came over from Crickhollow bringing back all the old furniture and gear, so that the old hole soon looked very much as it always had done. And whilst other labourers carried furniture between them, Frodo’s cousins tended to carry a few items on their own

When all was at last ready Frodo said: 'When are you going to move in and join me, Sam?” 

Sam looked a bit awkward. 

“There is no need to come yet, if you don't want to,' said Frodo. 'But you know the Gaffer is close at hand, and he will be very well looked after by Widow Rumble.” 

“It s not that,’ Mr. Frodo, said Sam, and he went very red. 

“Well, what is it?” 

“It's Rosie, Rose Cotton,' said Sam. 'It seems she didn't like my going abroad at all, poor lass but as I hadn't spoken, she couldn't say so. And I didn't speak, because I had a job to do first. But now I have spoken, and she says: ‘Well, you've wasted a year, so why wait longer?’ ‘Wasted?’ I says. “I wouldn't call it that.” Still I see what she means. I feel torn in two, as you might say.” 

“I see,' said Frodo; 'you want to get married, and yet you want to live with me in Bag End too? But my dear Sam, how easy! Get married as soon as you can, and then move in with Rosie. There's room enough in Bag End for as big a family as you could wish for.” 

And so it was settled. Sam Gamgee married Rose Cotton and Smeagol Baggins married Lobelia Sackville-Baggins (Lotho was best man) in the Spring of 1420 and Sam and Rosie, they came and lived at Bag End And Smeagol removed every last item he had and he went to live with Lobelia permanently.

And if Sam thought himself lucky, Frodo knew that he was more lucky himself; for there was not a hobbit in the Shire that was looked after with such care. When the labours of repair had all been planned and set going he took to a quiet life, writing a great deal and going through all his notes. He resigned the office of Deputy Mayor at the Free Fair that mid-summer, and dear old Will Whitfoot had another seven years of presiding at Banquets. 

 

* * *

Merry and Pippin lived together for some time at Crickhollow, and there was much coming and going between Buckland and Bag End. The two young Travellers cut a great dash in the Shire with their songs and their tales and their finery, and their wonderful parties. 'Lordly' folk called them, meaning nothing but good; for it warmed all hearts to see them go riding by with their mail-shirts so bright and their shields so splendid, laughing and singing songs of far away; 

 

People often commented on how the duo were now large and magnificent, but mostly unchanged, except that they were indeed more fair spoken and more jovial and full of merriment than ever before. 

The human that Merry now had in his service, called ‘Grima’ was a source of curiosity but he did not speak of his past and Merry would not elaborate saying only Grima was now his bondsman by order of a horse king.

And there is a letter not provided in these annals of the content of said letter. All that is known that when Meriadoc showed them to Grima, the latter hurled himself at the feet of our dear Hobbit and wept tears of joy.

 

* * *

Frodo and Sam, however, went back to ordinary attire, except that when there was need they both wore long grey cloaks, finely woven and clasped at the throat with beautiful brooches. Frodo wore always a white jewel on a chain that he often would finger. All things now went well, with hope always of becoming still better; and Sam was as busy and as full of delight as even a hobbit could wish. Nothing for him marred that whole year, except for some vague anxiety about his master. 

Frodo dropped quietly out of all the doings of the Shire, and Sam was pained to notice how little honour he had in his own country. Few people knew or wanted to know about his deeds and adventures; their admiration and respect were given mostly to Mr. Meriadoc and Mr. Peregrin and (if Sam had known it) to himself. Also in the autumn there appeared a shadow of old troubles. 

One evening Sam came into the study and found his master looking very strange. He was very pale and his eyes seemed to see things far away. “What's the matter, Mr. Frodo?” said Sam. 

“I am wounded,' he answered, 'wounded; it will never really heal.” But then he got up, and the turn seemed to pass, and he was quite himself the next day.

It was not until afterwards that Sam recalled that the date was October the sixth. Two years before on that day it was dark in the dell under Weathertop. 

And though not himself wounded, Smeagol felt the shadow creep at his door and he knelt all that night ready to defend his wife from a darkness he knew even more intimately than Frodo. 

Lobelia had a good sense of her weird husband ns knew the gleam in his eye from the battle of Bywater. Knowing she could not understand what he was going through she baked double chocolate biscuits with a mint cream filling. And he left out on a large plate for him.

 

* * *

Frodo Baggins and Samwise gamgee’s friendship and domestic arrangement has been extensively chronicled elsewhere such as The Red Book and do not need yet another treatment so I shall summarise as best I can.

Time went on, and 1421 came in. Frodo and Smeagol were both ill again in March, but with a great effort they concealed it, 

Sam and Rosie's first child was born on the twenty-fifth of March, a date that Sam noted. After struggling a little, Sam took Frodo’s advice about naming his sweet daughter and used an old Hobbit custom suggested, of naming her after a flower.

Concerned about the need to be usable in daily life sam used the name Frodo suggested and called his child ‘Elanor’ which is a Hobbit translation of an Elven flower

Smeagol and Lobelia’s first child was born the same day and a heartfelt conversation with Lobelia for she knew all of Smeagol’s past but with the traditional Shire sense she reminded him that she had married ‘Smeagol’ not ‘Gollum’.

And whilst he flinched at the old and much hated name, Smeagol steadied himself and thus was born , ‘Deagol Sackville Baggins’.

 

* * *

 

Smeagol was inspecting Little Deagol who was was nearly six months old, and 1421 had passed to its autumn, when Frodo called on his relatives along with Sam Gamgee and little Elanor. 

“Well cousin. what brings you here?” enquired Lobelia archly. Whilst outright enmity was behind them, they were still not exactly each other’s favourites. Nonetheless they were nearly always civil. 

 

“It will be Bilbo's Birthday on Thursday, everyone,' he said. 'And he will pass the Old Took. He will be a hundred and thirty-one!” 

“So he will!' said Sam. 'He's a marvel!” 

“And.Why.Have.You.Waited. So.Long.To.Let.Me.Know.A.Relative.Is.Still.Alive? Lobelia’s tone, usually hot was on this occasion quite icy.

Frodo blinked. “I’ve been fighting, busy, and ill Lobelia. Nonetheless I am remiss and completely and unreservedly apologise to you for my oversight.

Lobelia sniffed but replied. “I forgive you then. I’ve heard some o them stories from my Smeegs here.

Sam and Frodo stared at Smeagol and stared at each other and then back at Smeagol. In unison they went, ‘Smeegs?’

 

* * *

It was a few hours later after Lobelia had grilled Frodo about Bilbo and how everything had come to pass. Occasionally she would comment such as ‘ He was a Ranger before he starting kinging wasn’t he?” And, “That Balrog thing sounds bit nasty.”

Frodo would just nod whereas Smeagol though would often crease up with laughter. The argument about where ha dbeen came up and just as Sam was about to say, Smeagol jumped up behind him having sidled round the distracted Sam, and clapped his hands together shouting. “Sneaking!”

Sam jumped himself. He then proceeded to chase Smeagol around the neighbourhood for an hour. He and a smug looking Smeagol returned half an hour later though only Sam was out of breath.

“Well, Sam,' said Frodo . 'Now that you’re back, I want you to see Rose and find out if she can spare you, so that you and I can go off together. You can't go far or for a long time now of course.” 

“Well, not very well, Mr. Frodo.' 'Of course not. But never mind. You can see me on my way. Tell Rose that you won't be away very long, not more than a fortnight and you'll come back quite safe.” 

“I wish I could go all the way with you to Rivendell, Mr. Frodo, and see Mr. Bilbo,' said Sam. 'And yet the only place I really want to be in is here. I am that torn in two.” 

“Poor Sam! It will feel like that, I am afraid,' said Frodo. 'But you will be healed. You were meant to be solid and whole, and you will be. I would be quite pleased should Smeagol travel with us too.”

*

Lobelia looked at her husband as he packed for the journey when he received the invite. “Frodo isn’t coming back to the Shire from this is he?”

“No.” said Smeagol simply.

“Then you should pass this to him, a gift from me to Him, to be carried by Frodo.”

“What is it?”

“That is something they can find out when they unwrap it at the right point.”

In the next day or two Frodo went through his papers and his writings with Sam, and he handed over his keys. There was a big book with plain red leather covers; its tall pages were now almost filled. 

At the beginning there were many leaves covered with Bilbo's thin wandering hand but most of it was written in Frodo's firm flowing script. It was divided into chapters but Chapter 80 was unfinished, and after that were some blank leaves. 

The title page had many titles on it, crossed out one after another, so: My Diary. My Unexpected Journey. There and Back Again. And What Happened After. Adventures of Five (maybe I’ll call it six if Frodo insists) Hobbits. The Tale of the Great Ring, compiled by Bilbo Baggins from his own observations and the accounts of his friends. (And Smeagol for that matter).

 

What we did in the War of the Ring. Here Bilbo's hand ended and Frodo had written: THE DOWNFALL OF THE LORD OF THE RINGS AND THE RETURN OF THE KING (as seen by the Little People; being the memoirs of Bilbo and Frodo of the Shire, supplemented by the accounts of their friends and the learning of the Wise.) Together with extracts from Books of Lore translated by Bilbo in Rivendell. 

“Why, you have nearly finished it, Mr. Frodo!' Sam exclaimed. 'Well, you have kept at it, I must say.” 

'I have quite finished, Sam,' said Frodo. 'The last pages are for you.' On September the twenty-first they set out together, Frodo on the pony that had borne him all the way from Minas Tirith, and was now called Strider; and Sam on his beloved Bill. 

It was a bright golden morning, and Sam did not ask where they were going: he thought he could guess. They took the Stock Road over the hills and went towards the Woody End, and they let their ponies walk at their leisure. They camped in the Green Hills, and on September the twenty-second they rode gently down into the beginning of the trees as afternoon was wearing away. 

It was here that Smeagol rendezvoused with the pair and walked alongside, jogging along when they needed a little more speed /

“If that isn't the very tree you hid behind when the Black Rider first showed up, Mr. Frodo!' said Sam pointing to the left. 'It seems like a dream now.” 

Smeagol wrinkled his nose. “Nasty things, they smelled too.”

“So you’re saying they stank!”  
Frodo couldn’t help but laugh and just a little more darkness was chased out of Middle Earth.

Smeagol remembered the parcel Lobelia had given him for Bilbo and fished it out of his pack. He really wanted to know what was inside but there was no clue. Sighing he tapped Frodo on the leg.

“What is it Smeagol?”

“Lobster gave me this for Bilbo boggled brainses.”

“Lobster? Boggled brains?” A nonplussed Sam enquired.

“Calling her fish face got boring and old and since she can sometimes get crabby, I changed it.”

Frodo took the proffered parcel and squinted at it. A leaving present from Lobelia to Bilbo? What could it- Oh, of course.of course!

Sam and Smeagol stared at Frodo as he cried laughing.

 

* * * 

 

It was evening, and the stars were glimmering in the eastern sky as they passed the ruined oak and turned and went on down the hill between the hazel-thickets. 

Sam was silent, deep in his memories. Presently he became aware that Frodo was singing softly to himself, singing the old walking-song, but the words were not quite the same. Still round the corner there may wait A new road or a secret gate; And though I oft have passed them by, A day will come at last when I Shall take the hidden paths that run West of the Moon, East of the Sun. 

And as if in answer, from down below, coming up the road out of the valley, voices sang: A! Elbereth Gilthoniel! silivren penna míriel o menel aglar elenath, Gilthoniel, A! Elbereth! We still remember, we who dwell In this far land beneath the trees The starlight on the Western Seas. Frodo and Sam halted and sat silent in the soft shadows, until they saw a shimmer as the travellers came towards them. 

There was Gildor and many fair Elven folk; and there to Sam's wonder rode Elrond and Galadriel. Elrond wore a mantle of grey and had a star upon his forehead, and a silver harp was in his hand, and upon his finger was a ring of gold with a great blue stone, Vilya, mightiest of the Three. 

 

Smeagol was the first to spot Galadriel, sat as she was upon a white palfrey and was robed all in glimmering white, like clouds about the Moon. he was smiling at him for she had sensed his presence a long way back and had simply waited patiently. She seemed to shine with a soft light. On her finger was Nenya, the ring wrought of mithril, that bore a single white stone flickering like a frosty star. 

“Greetings Smeagol Baggins.I beleive I felt some of my power depart a while ago to reside in the Shire; the same shire i hear that has young Mallorn tree.”

“Lady.” Smeagol bowed as he said it but left it at that.

Galadriel turned her smile to Sam Gamgee. “Well, Master Samwise,' she said. 'I hear and see that you have used my gift well. The Shire shall now be more than ever blessed and beloved.” 

Sam bowed, but found nothing to say. He had forgotten how beautiful the Lady was. 

Then Bilbo woke up and opened his eyes. “Hullo, Frodo!' he said. 'Well, I have passed the Old Took today! So that's settled. And now I think I am quite ready to go on another journey. Are you coming?" 

“I shall get to that presently,’ Frodo assured him. ‘First though I have present for you from Lobelia.”

Bilbo took the parcel and unwrapped it. Inside there was cutlery, silver cutlery that Bilbo recognised. “Well, I’ll be!”

Frodo added, “It’s a farewell to us uncle, she knows we’re not going back.”

“Ah so you are coming with us then.”

“Yes, I am coming,' said Frodo. 'The Ring-bearers should go together.” 

“Where are you going, Master?” cried Sam, though at last he understood what was happening. 

“Mister Frodo is leaving us?!”

“Yes Smeagol it is time for me to depart. And I am going To the Havens, Sam,' said Frodo, answering both of them.

“And we can't come.”

“No. Not yet anyway, not further than the Havens. Though you too were a Ring-bearer, if only for a little while. Your time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot be always torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do.”

Frodo looked the to Smeagol. “As for you Smeagol, the One Ring cut deeper into you than any of it’s other bearers and the ship cannot take you yet, maybe never.”

Smeagol looked at Frodo. “I understand but I have many years left in the Shire yet and a family to care for.”

“As do I,' said Sam, and tears started in his eyes, ' but I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire too, for years and years, after all you have done.” 

“So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them. But you are my heir: all that I had and might have had I leave to you. 

‘And also you have Rose, and Elanor; and Frodo-lad will come, and Rosie-lass, and Merry, and Goldilocks, and Pippin; and perhaps more that I cannot see. You will be the Mayor, of course, as long as you want to be, and the most famous gardener in history; and you will read things out of the Red Book, and keep alive the memory of the age that is gone. so that people will remember the Great Danger and so love their beloved land all the more. And that will keep you as busy and as happy as anyone can be, as long as your part of the Story goes on. Come now, ride with me!”

‘Smeagol. You have the life back that was meant for you at the start before Mordor took it from you. Make good use of it.”

Then Elrond and Galadriel rode on; for the Third Age was over, and the Days of the Rings were passed, and an end was come of the story and song of those times. With them went many Elves of the High Kindred who would no longer stay in Middle Earth; and among them, filled with a sadness that was yet blessed and without bitterness, rode Sam, and Smeagol and Frodo, and Bilbo, and the Elves delighted to honour them. 

Though they rode through the midst of the Shire all the evening and all the night, none saw them pass, save the wild creatures.  
And when they had passed from the Shire, going about the south skirts of the White Downs, they came to the Far Downs, and to the Towers, and looked on the distant Sea; and so they rode down at last to Mithlond, to the Grey Havens in the long firth of Lune, where they were met by Cirdan the shipwright. and he said simply, “All is now ready.” 

Then he led them to the Havens, and there was a white ship lying, and upon the quay beside a great grey horse stood a figure robed all in white awaiting them. As he turned and came towards them Frodo saw that Gandalf now wore openly upon his hand the Third Ring, Narya the Great, and the stone upon it was red as fire

“That explains a lot,’ said Sam sighing.

Then those who were to go were glad, for they knew that Gandalf also would take ship with them. But Sam was now sorrowful at heart, and it seemed to him that if the parting would be bitter, though alleviated by the presence of Smeagol. 

But even as the downhearted duo stood there, and the Elves were going aboard, and all was being made ready to depart, up rode Merry and Pippin in great haste. And amid his tears Pippin laughed. 'You tried to give us the slip once before and failed, Frodo.' he said. 'This time you have nearly succeeded, but you have failed again. It was not Sam, though, that gave you away this time, but Gandalf himself!” 

'Yes,' said Gandalf, 'for it will be better to ride back four together 'than one alone. Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea comes the end of our fellowship in Middle-earth. Go in peace! I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.” 

Then Frodo kissed Merry and Pippin, then Smeagol and last of all Sam, and went aboard; and the sails were drawn up, and the wind blew, and slowly the ship slipped away down the long grey firth; and the light of the glass of Galadriel that Frodo bore glimmered and was lost. 

 

The ship went out into the High Sea and passed on into the West, until at last on a night of rain Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water. And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise.

* * *

To Sam the evening deepened to darkness as he stood at the Haven; and as he looked at the grey sea he saw only a shadow on the waters that was soon lost in the West. There still he stood far into the night, hearing only the sigh and murmur of the waves on the shores of Middle-earth, and the sound of them sank deep into his heart. 

Beside him stood Merry and Pippin, and Smeagol and they were silent. At last the four companions turned away, and never again looking back they rode slowly homewards; and they spoke no word to one another until they came back to the Shire, but each had great comfort in his friends on the long grey road. At last they rode over the downs and took the East Road, and then Merry and Pippin rode on to Buckland; and already they were singing again as they went. 

But Sam and Smeagol turned to Bywater, and as they reached the point where they too would part ways they smiled at each other, the irony of keeping each other company not lost on them.

And just as Sam returned to his beloved Rosie, so did smeagol return to his beloved Lobelia.

“Hello my beloved,” he said.

* * * 

Epilogue

 

The little Hobbit lass, Pippa Samantha Merry Took, looked at the door to ‘Sack End’ as its owners now called it. She knew the famous duo lived there and she wanted to see them, to get their name in her Mathom Book just like she had with the Great (Peregrin) Took and The Master of Buckland Meriadoc Brandybuck.

She recalled that day fondly whilst she hesitated: Master Meriadoc had looked at her and asked why she wanted all the names.

“Speak only the truth and all of it mind.”

“Two reasons Sir,’ she had said. ‘A Hobbit should know her history. And i also want to show off like my names’ sakes.”

Merry had laughed and signed his mark and told her about his own book of names. and after fourth breakfast (she was dieting) the next day she had headed out for her last signatories.

Breathing heavily she walked up, getting ready to knock but frowned at the notice on the door. It seemed that she was going to have to do just a bit more travel. she she skipped down the path singing happily.

The note on the door read;

‘Gone Fishing, yours sincerely’, Smeagol and Lobelia.’

 

The (new) beginning.


End file.
